District Empire
by Jabberwocky Kid
Summary: Dr. Crane has been ordered to evaluate Gotham's most elusive business owner's assistant. When he ends up being one of the first people to see the boss, he takes the opportunity to fulfill his new-found fixation and kidnaps her. She has to give up fighting him sometime. [HIATUS]
1. Chapter 1

He was tall, dramatically thin, high cheekbones, had designer glasses, and wondrous blue eyes. His name was Jonathan Crane. He was currently standing outside of a sky-rise. He knew well enough that this place was known for it's strict business and elegance. Elegance wasn't the word, more like style. The building was the empire for Bouprie Cosmetics and Fashion.

Why was he here? He didn't use make-up, he had no need for more suits, he was fine with what this company had to supply. He was here on order of an evaluation. The company's owner's assistant, Beatrice Niemal needed an evaluation. Why didn't she go to Dr. Crane's office? The owner (whose first name or appearance has never been leaked to the media) and her assistant (who represented the owner in public) hardly ever left their place of business unless it was _to_ business. But, here's the thing;

Nobody knows who the owner of Bouprie Cosmetics and Fashion, BCF, is. No one has seen her or heard her voice. Nobody knows her first name, and even some have doubts whether Bouprie is her last name, or even if she IS a 'she'.

He received the phone call demanding his presence there by five o' clock. Demanded. Nobody had talked to him like that since he got out of college as a student. He remembered the phone call clearly, for the voice was chilling. Nothing was supposed to strike him as 'chilling', but he sure remembered it, exactly as it happened;

"_How may I help you?' _

'_Good afternoon, Dr. Crane. Your presence is requested at the lobby of Bouprie Cosmetics and Fashion at exactly five o' clock, pm.' _

'_Who am I speaking to at the moment?' _

'_That is none of your concerns. What is your concern is that you are demanded to be at the exact location at the exact time.' _

'_Why would I do that if I am unaware of who I am communicating with?'_

'_The owner has requested your presence in order to give a full psychiatric evaluation to the assistant, Ms. Beatrice Niemal .'_

'_This is the twentieth century, I don't make house calls.'_

'_We will make your time be worth it. We are prepared to pay you approximately five hundred dollars for the evaluation, another five hundred for your diagnoses, and another for her stay in your hospital if it comes to the worst.'_

'_Approximately?'_

'_Approximately.'_

'_How do I know this isn't a scam?'_

'_Simply trace the call.'_

_And then she hung up. He had indeed trace the call, and it did go back to Bouprie Cosmetics and Fashion. It was worth a look. Money and another test subject. How delightful. And, so, here he was. It was five-fifty nine. He pushed one of the double glass doors open and headed into the lobby._


	2. Chapter 2

The receptionist, in a failed attempt to be discreet, stared at him over her eye glasses. She was a somewhat pitiful sight, Bouprie clothes, Bouprie make-up, basically advertising her work wherever she went. He stared right back at her.

The elevator doors opened at exactly 5:00, and out stepped a woman with a strict appearance. Her dark brown hair was pulled back so tightly, the dark skin around the hairline was taking a lighter shade. She wasn't scowling, but it looked as though she hadn't smiled a day in her life. She was probably the only person in this place who wasn't wearing Bouprie clothes.

She walked to the receptionist and started to talk, all the while they would start to glance at him. Then in one moment the dark skinned woman pointed at him, while the other nodded. She then walked over to him and stared straight into his eyes.

"Dr. Crane, the manager has been expecting you. Please follow me." she said. He was now sure that this was the woman who had contacted him before. Her appearance was just as chilling as her voice. He could also tell that the 'please' was not a true 'please'.

They had entered the elevator, sharing a professional aura that seemed to compete against each other. He held onto his brief case as she held onto her other hand. It was a tense silent, one that kept both of their mouths shut.

The elevator's speaker sounded a calm chime to signal they had reached the destined goal. The double doors opened and revealed a hallway completely different from the lobby, which reminded Dr. Crane much of the lobby at Arkham.

This hallway had a beautiful marble tile with studio lights at the ceiling. Pictures of models advertising the fashion line of BCF hung between doors. Each door had a number on it and a little plastic stick-out pouch which had charts overflowing. Rhythmic beats of either rap or techno music vibrated through his shoes.

"Are you wondering what this floor among others is for?" she asked. It seemed as though she didn't care about talking to him.

"No." he replied. It was a simple enough answer, and she seemed to accept it without any hostility. She seemed to be such a proud woman, he felt so compelled to spray her right then. He would've just loved to watch her quickly fall from her confident and stubborn perch to the pits of fear, but alas, everyone behind the closed doors would here screaming.

"Follow me." she said again. She guided him behind an unmarked door at the end of the hallway which led to an equally stylish hallway, but with no doors. Just an elevator. The elevator didn't go down though, only up.

They went to the top floor. How typical, the office being on the top floor. But, there must have been a good reason. After all, his office was on the top floor. When the doors opened to the same chime, it was not what he expected. It was a larger area with offices.

He caught a glimpse out the window, and saw that he was indeed not at the top floor. At about this time he realized he wasn't dealing with an everyday corporation. He was dealing with someone who had secrets that were beyond 'I liked her', or 'It was me'.

It took her a while to stuff folders into bins, but in that while she had made it to a door. She opened it, and it led to a stairwell.

Scarecrow had now started to nag to Dr. Crane about the labyrinth of an office she was leading him through. Then he started to go on about her ass. Then her bitchy I'm-better-than-you attitude. He mentally pushed him aside and bared the 4 flights of stairs.

Then another door, but this one was different. There was no knob. She pulled a key card from her pocket and slid it through an almost invisible slit. Just moments later, the door slid opened. She stepped inside, guiding him in.

This was wider than the hallways, but not as big as the office room. There was one simple office door with windows on the side to peer in, and it was cloned on the opposite wall. It was a seemingly vacant room otherwise. She went to one door and unlocked it with an actual key. Then was the first time he had seen her stop moving.

She stood by the door and waited for him to enter. He did so.

"Ms. Bouprie will be waiting inside to talk to you." she said. She followed him in and locked the door behind her. Nobody was in the room. The woman walked behind the desk and sat down. Then everything clicked in his head.

"Dr. Crane, we have business to discuss."


	3. Chapter 3

"Ms. Bouprie. Manager, founder, creator of Bouprie Cosmetics and Fashion. It is an honor to meet someone with your …amazing hide and seek capabilities." he said, sitting himself down in a rather comfortable chair. The woman nodded, her hands folded in front of her. She, apparently, did not take flattery by any means.

"Dr. Crane. I picked you out of a handful of qualified, professional, doctors that would have done almost anything to be where you are now. Do you know how important and dangerous this meeting is for my career, and yours?"

He stared outside the window that took up a whole wall and thought about it. BCF was known for taking down as many as about 50 corporate companies, as well as government facilities. But four companies or government facilities you couldn't get rid of in Gotham; Wayne Enterprises, Arkham Asylum, Bouprie Cosmetics and Fashion, and Gotham City Police Department.

"Yes, I do." he said knowingly.

"I know what you're thinking. How can I bring Arkham down? Well, I never said I would bring Arkham down," she said, standing up. She then grabbed his tie and pulled him forward until their faces were almost touching.

"I said I would bring you down." she growled. Crane raised his eyebrows and lightly removed her hand from his neck tie. She let go and sat back down, clearing her throat.

"Now, I want to ask you if you are fully prepared to handle Ms. Niemal. She has been under some sort of incoherent state for about two weeks now. She barely talks to me, makes public appearances, and she has been getting very…" she said, but stopped. For lack of a better word, any word for that matter, she just rotated her wrist and looked up, trying desperately to find the right word.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"In the other office. Did you hear her, Dr. Crane?" she asked, standing up again, but this time walking over to him. Dr. Crane stood up as well.

"No, I didn't."

"Come see why." she said, unlocking her door and taking him with her to the other office. She opened the door, and he was actually surprised.

The room was in a sty. Papers were everywhere with drawings, colors, everything. Her office was just like Agnes's, but it seemed smaller, and so unbelievably cluttered, he didn't have anywhere to walk. In the center of the room was a red ottoman with a flustered woman sitting on it.

She was a bit tan, petite, a bob of black hair with a blue blouse and a black pencil skirt. Her glasses were uneven, some of her hair was knotted, her make up was smudged, and her shoes were no where to be seen. She was chewing on a pen with great strength. Around her were many other pens that had been chewed beyond repair. That is when she looked up, her wild blue eyes analyzing both of them. She jumped up, tripped, got back up again, and ran in front of the duo.

"Mi-, ah, Miss B-Boupri-I-ie. I have de-he-signs…" she said. When she saw her hands had no paper, she turned around and scrambled about through the mess. She came back with about fifty papers and handed them to Agnes.

"Ms. Niemal has been talking to herself, if not at all. She hasn't slept in days, I have to threaten her to eat and drink, and everything about her has been worrying me. Dr. Crane, I want you to find out what is going on. Fix her, she has to be civilized for a public appearance." she whispered to him.

"Ms. Niemal, my name is Dr. Jonathan Crane." he said soothingly, pushing papers aside with his foot. He sat down on a fairly decent love seat and set his briefcase next to him. Beatrice did not answer him, but merely went back to drawing and coloring designs.

"Ms. Bouprie, if you please…" He said, gesturing to the door. Agnes crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Fine. But you only have an hour for the evaluation. I will be in my office. You can't leave this area, even if you tried. Come to me when you are done." she said malevolently. Agnes left the room, leaving Crane to the silent designer.

**ONE CONVENIANTLY PLACED TIME SKIP LATER**

**Agnes went into beast mode, for lack of a better phrase, when she heard the terrified screams of her long time assistant and somewhat friend Beatrice Niemal. She bolted out of her office, across the "hall," and into the room where she heard the noise. She attempted to open the door, but found it locked. With rage, she threw herself at the door repeatedly until the hinges cracked, allowing the door to open. The sight before her was…confusing.**

**Dr. Crane was holding Beatrice, trying to calm her, as she screamed in paralyzing fear. He had pulled out a syringe and stuck it in the woman's neck, which caused her to eventually fall into a state of unconsciousness.**

"**What the hell is going on here? I told you to fix her, help her, and I come in here and find her scared half to death! You sure as hell better have a good reason for this!" she screeched, grabbing his arm, hard. Dr. Crane was sure there would either be a bruise or nail piercing on his skin later.**

"**If you would please release your death grip on me, I would tell you what happened." he said, slowly. He mocked the violent outbursts this woman displayed in her time of frustration. But she obliged, much to his appreciation.**

"**Ms. Niemal had an outburst, a panic attack, if you will. The questions seemed to be getting to her mind. She was starting to show symptoms of paranoia, schizophrenia, and then she snapped. She went into a stage of complete fear and proceeded to scream and attack me. I sedated her. Ms. Bouprie, with her under these conditions, I have to say she'll need to be moved into Arkham for further evaluation. I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Bouprie." he said. His sympathy was fake to her. It was to him too, but all of the readers know that. Whoops. Breaking the fourth wall. Disregard the previous sentences.**

**Agnes felt nauseated as she heard the news. She held the area over her heart and slowly sat down. She knew there was going to be a problem, but she didn't expect this. She shook her head, not believing it for a split second. But it was true. She would have to find a new assistant. Someone she could trust. She had plenty of people who could replace her, but…**

"**V…Very well, Dr. Crane. If you would come with me…please…" she said, making her way to the door. She entered her own office again. She sat down and held her hand to her forehead and sighed. She logged into her funds and started to work.**

**Dr. Crane sat down in the same chair as before. He found it rather odd that she simply left her unconscious assistant on the floor, but, it wasn't his place to judge. Not that it bothered him to judge other people wrongly, or in any way.**

"**I am sending…your money… to your account. It shouldn't be that hard to find." she said. Dr. Crane stood up rather quickly and leaned over her desk.**

"**Oh, thank you, but that won't be necessary. I have a separate account for this. May I?" he asked. Agnes narrowed her eyes at him slightly and turned the monitor towards him. She then put the keyboard in front of him.**

**He gave her a charming smile and did what he needed to do to put his money towards his 'research.' **


	4. Chapter 4

It had been three months since Beatrice was put into Arkham. She had been replaced with a much older woman, Margaret Forcade. Margaret was nice, but she didn't produce as many designs as Beatrice, and Agnes didn't feel as close to her as she did with Beatrice.

Dr. Crane came around every other week with updates on her well-being. Files, reports, and diagnoses. He hadn't figured out what was happening to her. Her condition was getting worse and worse. Agnes found herself drinking more and more often.

She found herself stealing a bottle of scotch from one of the employees every Thursday, then driving to the abandoned and empty shack in the Narrows she used to call home. Drinking and remembering her childhood. Playing double-dutch with her friends, watching her grandmother sew, drawing designs with her mother. But then the nightmares began, remembering her father.

Her dad was a big black business man. Big, as in bulging muscles, 6' 8", 210 pounds, and intimidating. She remembered when he would come to the house and fight with her mom over her. Over who would keep her. More than once would her other come back from the kitchen, where the arguments were held, with a bruise. By then her dad would be gone, back to his flat. She remembered one of those fights vividly.

"_Johnny gave me apples, Johnny gave me pears, Johnny gave me fifty cents and kissed me on the stairs. I'd rather wash the dishes, I'd rather scrub the floor, I'd rather kiss Donnie behind the kitchen door." Teenie Tina sang as she jumped to avoid the rope. _

_Teenie Tina was one of her best friends, the other being Abby. Teenie Tina was a partial Asian, partial black girl in the neighborhood that she made friends with a school. Her eyes were extremely narrow, like a fox, her hair was pulled back ridiculously tight in a knot bun, and she always had a superior smirk on her face. She was also very short, hence her name. Her father was a business man, one who worked with the Chinese mob. Triads. And the group knew that she had the biggest crush on Donnie Renard, the neighborhood rich-boy. _

"_My turn." Abby said, replacing her in the center._

"_Johnny gave me apples, Johnny gave me pears, Johnny gave me fifty cents to kiss him on the stairs. I gave him back his apples, I gave him back his pears, I gave him back his fifty cents and kicked him down the stairs." she sang. We all burst into laughter._

_Abby was known as the 'bitch.' Well, queen bitch. Only to those who didn't know her, though. She lived with abusive foster parents and a perverted adopted brother. She wore glasses, sleek rectangles, and she was Latino. Her hair was long and sleek, and she had straight cut bangs that reached just past her eyebrows. She was always quick with insults, but also a good friend._

"_God Abby, you can be so cruel!" Agnes laughed. Abby flashed her a smile and cleaned her glasses with her shirt. _

"_Yeah. Hey, umm, Agnes?" Teenie Tina asked._

"_Huh?"_

"_Isn't that your dad's car? A black 1989 Pontiac Firebird?" she asked. It was. Agnes slowly turned around to face her father, who was climbing out of his vehicle. _

_Magnus T. Bouprie, one of the few successful businessmen of Gotham. One of the many spouse abusers of Gotham. One of the many divorcees of Gotham. He is also one of the few who wants the absolute best for his daughter. He walked over to the group and nodded at Abby and Teenie Tina, then gave Agnes a big hug._

"_How is my princess doing?" he asked in his deep voice. Agnes hugged him back and said, "Fine." "Where is your mother?" he asked, putting her down on the ground. She straightened out her dress and looked at him with nervousness in her eyes._

"_Why?" she asked._

"_Because I want to talk to her. Princess, we've been through this before. Sometimes mom and me need to have talks, to set things right with each other." he said. Agnes sniffled at the lie._

"_She-She's in the kitchen, daddy." she whispered. He nodded, ruffled her hair, and went inside. Teenie Tina and Abby circled around her to comfort her. They listened as there were now yells, metal clashing noises, and more._

_About thirty minutes later, Magnus stormed out of the house through the backdoor, got in his car, and drove off. Agnes hurried into the kitchen._

_Her mother was on the ground, her face covered with her hair._

"_Mommy?" she whispered quietly. _

_Eliza Bouprie slowly looked up to her daughter. She then opened her arms out wide to her. Agnes ran to her for the embrace, and as she got closer, she noticed the shiner forming._

_She wanted to talk about it with her, to ask her why Magnus did it, but she knew she wasn't going to get the truth. So, she went back outside, and played Double Dutch with Teenie Tina and Abby._

When the memory ended, she closed her eyes, faced the window, and sighed heavily. That was in the past. Afterwards, Teenie Tina moved to China with her father to carry out the business, and she took Donnie with her. She had fit in right next to her dad as a Triad.

Agnes's grandmother then died of a stroke. This resulted in Agnes learning how to sew and cook, so when Eliza was sewing, she could cook, and vise versa.

Then, Abby's foster brother raped her. She had gone to the hospital, but Xavier, the foster brother, smuggled her with a pillow afterwards. Her best friends were gone.

Then one day her mother accidentally overdosed on anti depressants. That's what the doctors said, though she didn't believe it. She believed Magnus had something to do with it.

In the end, she moved in with her dad in his pad, which was a lot more luxurious than her old life. She got into better schools, ate better food, lived in a better atmosphere. She learned the ways of business, how to handle the good and the bad.

She had taken the designs she use to make with Abby and Teenie Tina, and she took the clothes her grandmother had made for the family, and she cherished them to no end. She never made the designs public, she never wore the clothes for others to see.

But, at last, right at the start of BCF, her father died. He was shot by a client of his, shot several times in the forehead. She had figured whoever had killed her mom had killed her dad. So she had stayed in hiding ever since. She hid her identity from the public, because she was half sure that the people who her parents were on bad terms with were part of a mob.

"Ms. Bouprie, it's Margaret." a voice said. Agnes looked away and tried to look as professional as possible.

"Come in." she said, tired.

The woman came inside the office. She had papers in hand. Designs. Great, that was just what she needed, something to take her mind off of the past. She just wanted to work.

"Thank you, Margaret." she said, taking the papers. The woman then left. Agnes turned to her computer and began to work by uploading the drawings she liked onto the computer, then sending them to each person available to make the item.

The first article of clothing in a series was always the most important. When it was perfected, it could be done over and over again by the lesser employees, then shipped out to whoever bought some. It was a simple system, at the least.

She saw the clock. It read 2:56 pm. She growled in annoyance. This was the first time in months he was late. About an hour late. She picked up her phone and called his office. He was not in. Peachy. She would just have to wait and worry.


	5. Chapter 5

(I do not own anything Batman. Be warned this has some violence.)

Midnight came all too early for Agnes, but she didn't complain. She loved to look out the one-way windows and peer over the city. She loved to watch the lights illuminated. She loved knowing that no matter how curious a person was, they couldn't see her, and she could see them. That meant, to her, that she had the upper hand at whatever paranoia induced scenarios went on in her head.

She had finished her work, and half of the employees had already left to meet with there family, girlfriends, boyfriends, friends…Agnes narrowed her eyes at the hundreds of cars driving around, picturing her workers being merry.

Then she looked closer. Much closer. People were driving like maniacs out there. There were small fires dotted around, which supplied more illumination than the artificial lights. People in Gotham were so reckless, she thought bitterly.

She sat down at her desk and proceeded to make designs of her own. It was fun. It reminded her of being a little girl, dressing up dolls with clothes she made. But they weren't going on dolls. They were going on foreign models that showed off their skin more than the clothes. Models whose names were Candice, or Ginger, or anything spice related.

Cilantro. She laughed at the thought of a model with that name.

All of the sudden, two women busted into the room. They were frantic, in a mess. They rushed over to her, their words intertwined into incoherent gibberish. Their hands waved around, making gestures, pointing outside, and doing numerous other things.

"Hush. Do I know either of you?" Agnes asked in disbelief. That's when Margaret rushed in.

"Ms. Bouprie I'm terribly sorry, but they somehow managed to get through, and their names are Diane and Christine. Miss, they work in the Fabrics department. I am so sor-"

"No, listen to us, something is happening, everyone of the first floor to the third floor is going insane! Jerry, d-down in Contacts, he pulled out a gun on Nina, a-and Sophia tried to stop him, he shot everyone, everyone is going crazy, they're all terrified, Ms. Bouprie, its going on outside, too! Look!" The one named Diane cried.

Both of their faces were tear streaked, they had abandoned their footwear, and looked as though they had run a marathon in designer labeled dresses. They probably had, it's a forty three story building. Agnes took what they said and looked outside.

"Margaret, lock the door. Diane, I don't see anything."

"Look closer!" she practically shrieked.

She did. She squinted her eyes, and leaned in. Her face was almost squished against the window, and then she noticed something. Most of the cars had stopped moving, and people were running around. Running, not as in just running, but running away.

She spotted one specific person and watched as they ran down the middle of a road, arms in the air. He looked back behind him, and ran faster, his mouth opening in a shout of fear. Then he go hit by a car that was no doubt going over the speed limit.

"Oh my God." Agnes whispered. She then went to her computer, switched on the monitor and turned on the security lock. This prevented anyone from getting in with key-cards. She brought up camera views that were set around the first three floors. She gaped.

A man had taken a chainsaw, of all things, into the lobby and proceeded to…de-limb everyone inside. Agnes shook her head and felt as though she was going to vomit. Her hand went to her mouth and she shut her eyes tightly.

"Oh my God!" Agnes exclaimed, choking back sobs. She pulled her hands away from her face and checked out every room. The occupants were either dead, killing in a fit of fear, or going through their own breakdowns.

Then the alarm went off. The alarm that went all throughout the top floor. The room's alarm system was in the right corner of the west wall, and it was flashing lights. Very bright red and white lights. Christine started screaming again and moved Agnes's file cabinet in front of the door.

Margaret stood very still. Then, she took Christine by the hair and punched her. While on the ground, she jammed her heel into her head. Blood seeped out and onto the carpet. You could barely see her actions from the flashing lights.

Diane fell to the ground in a violent seizure. Agnes grabbed Margaret. With so much fear, adrenaline, and an urge to protect the younger employee, she grabbed the forty seven year old woman's short, wavy hair and pushed her into the wall with all her strength.

"Ms. Bouprie, I want what is best for this company, they are damaging it, I'm trying to help!" she screamed, hitting her. Agnes fell to the ground.

"Y-You're doing this!" she called over the chaos in the room.

"No. I saw an opportunity to get rid of the weaker employees, and I took it, Ms. Bouprie. I don't know what is happening, but I can assure you, you will remain unharmed!" she yelled, switching on the absolute lockdown mode. This meant nobody was getting out.

All of the sudden the lights stopped flashing, and the lighting was now normal. Everything was a wreck. In Diane's seizing, she had managed to knock her computer to the floor, breaking the monitor. Now there was no way to see what was happening anywhere else, but by the sounds of screaming, whatever was taking over the people outside was now just about two stories below.

Margaret had straightened out and was walking over to her, and pulled her up. Christine was on the floor, a large hole in her temple spewing blood and other substance. Her eyes were wide open, but glazed. Her hand was clenched tightly, revealing that she did try to fight back.

"I am sorry for hitting you Ms. Bouprie. Now I have to take care of this woman. Her job shall be terminated, yes?"

"N-No! You sick bitch, you just killed one of my employees by stabbing her in the head, this will not be tolerated. Now if you listen, whatever is down there is coming. Coming up here, and it will get us and drive us into what you are hearing now!" Agnes said in a low voice. She went from utter fear of her assistant's new personality, to subtle intolerance.

"**Entry on level forty-three. Entry on level, level, level, leve, lev, le" **

**A computerized voice announced this, before being cut off. Diane stopped seizing and froze, paralyzed in fear. Everyone alive in the room was, at that point.**

**Footsteps were slow from behind the door. Margaret stood with a stoic expression, and was very tense, Diane's hair fell over her face as she curled up in a fallen fetal position, and Agnes stood firm in the corner in a position that, if the door opened, she wouldn't be seen. The footsteps stopped.**

**For a moment it was dead in the room. It seemed as though everything stopped. Pulses, heart beats, breathing, everything just froze. Except for the trickle of sweat that went down Agnes's forehead. She didn't reach up to wipe it away. She, along with Margaret, was fixated on the door.**

**What was she thinking? Whoever or whatever was behind the door had drove this whole town to a deeper level of insanity and inanity, a level now which shattered any peaceful moment. Each time her heart beat, she could hear the screaming below and outside. This was the most dangerous thing that would ever be encountered, and she just stood there, waiting.**

**The door knob gradually turned. Since it was locked, the attempt to get in the room failed. **

**The door busted down, it breaking off of the hinges, splinters and shards of glass everywhere. Everything happened so fast to Agnes. A figure clad in stitched cloth, maybe burlap, came in with a canister and sprayed Margaret. It didn't see her…yet.**

**Agnes watched as her assistant newly-turned sociopath crumpled to the ground, her ankle jutting out and a sick cracking noise emitting. Her ankle broke in the fall to the floor. She began to rock and forth, tears started to stream down her face. She muttered something she couldn't hear. She stopped moving. She screamed an eldritch scream that was terrifyingly loud.**

**Agnes made a mad dash to get out of the room, and made it. Not that it would do her any good. The door was broken, she was disoriented, and was locked in the upper floor because of the absolute lockdown. **

**She was grabbed, that much was taken in. She couldn't find out what was happening before it was too late. The figure had grabbed her from behind, and from watching the shadow, raised the canister and slammed it down on her head. **

**She couldn't feel anything, and watched as colors from her psyche blazed in her vision. She wanted to see what the shadow would do, but she couldn't keep her eyes open, he had hit her in a sensitive spot. She started to slip out of his grasp, and he laid her gently on the floor.**


	6. Chapter 6

(I do not own anything Batman. This is in Crane's P.O.V….somewhat.)

Dr. Crane had set her gently on the ground, and kneeled down next to her. He had not expected the older woman's actions, killing the younger. That had put a dent in his plan, as to be the most horrifying entity to everyone. But it seemed to work well with scaring Agnes.

He didn't know what was happening, but he developed a sort of attachment to the woman over the time they had kept in touch. At first he found her stubborn, aggressive, high-horse attitude to be disgusting, and she would've made an excellent candidate for a test subject. Whatever happened, it made him start to grow fond of her. No, fondness was an understatement.

He had researched her childhood, checked out her history, and found out a lot about her. He found where she lived in her childhood, which was only a block from where he used to live. He found out about the people she associated with, her family, how her father had made a deal with the mob to kill his wife, her mother. It was an interesting story.

Magnus Bouprie, still married to Eliza Bouprie, had kicked her out under the nose of the media. He never filed a divorce, and he found that he threatened her to not file one, to keep up his reputation. There were frequent struggles between them as to custody. Magnus had the mob kill his wife, to make it look like an accident. It didn't get much publicity, since he didn't pay for a big hubbub about it. After taking Agnes, he taught her everything, until the day he was killed by the mob for never returning the previous favor. She took what she had learned from her grandmother on designing and sewing and started a business that was at first private, then she hit big and the stocks never went back down. She had rose to the top steps of the corporate ladder by herself.

That's what he heard, anyway.

Crane had stroked the hair away from Agnes's tear streaked face. Her eyeliner had smudged very much so, and he wiped it away, along with the tears. He was upset about hitting her on the head, for there was now blood drying in her hair. He ran his fingers through it to get rid of the clumps, then slowly leaned in to sniff. Her hair smelled nice; of mint.

He went to the door, the one that couldn't let anyone out, but could let anyone in. He examined the thick plastic card that he stuck in between the lock and door itself. Relieved that it still kept the door ajar, he went back to the unconscious form.

Jonathan scooped her up bridal style and let out a shaky sigh. She didn't look like it, but she was somewhat heavy. He liked it, partially because it meant she was healthy weight-wise; not too light and not too heavy. He walked slowly to the door and pushed it to the side with his back, letting him and the woman out.

He had made it down the stairway, with minimal stumbles, and had his henchmen, who were in the lobby, pull one of the vans up. They emptied the Bouprie clothing inside and two climbed in, along with Jonathan, still holding Agnes, and the driver. The rest piled into another van.

The two henchmen, who he barely recognized as Rick and Michael, looked at the girl in curiosity. Crane had laid her down on the only backseat sideway, her body on the seat, her head on his lap. He petted her hair and glared ahead. He could here and partly see what they were doing.

Michael had whispered 'How much to tap that?' to Rick. Rick merely replied with a obscene motion with his pelvic region and hand, and said, 'Mmm, I love milk chocolate.' Michael snorted, then made another obscene gesture with two of his fingers and his tongue. Crane temporarily let it go.

On the way back, the driver was careful to avoid hitting people who had long ago lost their sanity, who were running about the streets. It was visible that he was growing impatient, and eventually he turned around with anger in his eyes.

"Keep yourself stable, sir, I'm goin' full blast on this damn thing!" he said, facing the front again, and slamming his foot down on the gas pedal.

It sped forward, not slowing down through the people it hit. At one point a person had hit the windshield, leaving a crack. Then all of the sudden they had driven over someone, which caused everyone in the vehicle to be thrown forward.

Crane had made a grab for Agnes's shoulder blades, and Rick had fallen onto the adjustments of Jonathan's seat. That made the back of Crane's seat jerk forward, causing him to almost crush the woman whom he had previously saved from a tumble to the van's floor. Scarecrow's wanted to turn around and strangle Rick.

He looked down at him, as much as he could, being squished against Agnes and all. Rick was pressing on buttons profusely, trying to get his boss's seat normal. It worked, and the only thing that stopped Scarecrow from spraying the sucker was that he was finally able to breath right, and he had noticed that in all of the commotion, Agnes's head had been turned downside on Crane's lap.

Jonathan breathed heavily, and took off his mask, slowly. He cleared his throat and began to make the move to turn her head right side up. Every time his hands went closer, they backed up. His thoughts were conflicted by Scarecrow's. Jonathan wanted to lift her up, turn her head upward, and hold her away from his manhood.

Scarecrow, on the other hand, wanted to unzip his pants, pull them, along with his briefs, down and force her mouth open, and…you get the picture. He went on and on in their minds about what to do with her when they got to the hide out.

Jonathan's plan was to lock her in his room and keep her in there. Someone other than his henchmen to talk to would be nice. He would bring her food, make her forget about Beatrice, who was now past the brink of sanity, too far past. He could introduce his plans of fear toxin to her, maybe even have Agnes play as test subject.

Scarecrow had edited that plan into something like this; Lock her in his room, use her as an experiment, screw her brains out until she was basically a hopeless mess, and most likely move on to bigger and better things.

"Ay, uh, Dr. Crane. We here. Do you need help with that?" the driver asked, pointing to the woman, still in the awkward position, whom Jonathan was staring at.

"Uh, Gabe I don't think the good doc needs any help with her, ya know what I'm saying, eh?" Rick said, bursting into laughter. Dr. Crane merely raised his eyebrows lightly and gave Gabe a small, false smile.

"Carry her inside, keep her with you until I come in there. Don't let anyone else touch her, and don't wake her up. Or you will most certainly regret it." he said lightly. Gabe nodded and took the woman in his arms. Rick and Michael followed, until Scarecrow showed up and stopped them

"Wow, wow, hey fellahs. Where are you two going?" he asked, his now dark blue eyes wide in mock curiosity and innocence.

"Don't mind us, sir, we was just going to get some sleep. That was a huge all nighter. Biggest event in Gotham, I bet. I'm guessing this won't wear off in a whole week. It was awesome, man, seeing all those people screaming." Michael said, followed by a geeky laugh.

"I know. That's why I planned it, guys, get that through you're thick skulls!" Scarecrow said, with the same innocent expression on his face.

"Now, I heard you to talking about the lovely woman I had in my lap. Milk chocolate? I love milk chocolate! We can go into town again and get some Hershey's milk chocolate! Peanuts or no? C'mon, lets go!" he said, ushering them into the van. Rick ended up slapping his hand away, in a non-feminine manner. Scarecrow locked the door behind him, picked up his mask, and put it on.

"Doc, that is so not what we meant! It's because she's half white, milk, and half black, chocolate. I love me those kind of girls." Rick said. Jonathan found it disgusting as to how one could have sex with another based entirely on their skin color.

"Then…you don't want to get chocolate?" Scarecrow asked, faking hurt and disappointment.

"N…No, man, let us out of here." Michael said, noticing the locked doors.

"Why? Claustrophobic?" he asked.

"N-No, I'm not. It's just…just let us out!" he shouted, sweat trickling down his brow.

"No." Scarecrow and Jonathan said at the same time. Michael made a frantic move towards the locks. Scarecrow blocked him easily, his hand wrapping around Michael's neck.

"W-What the hell do you want, man!" he chocked out, his breath hitched. Tears were welling up in his eyes. Scarecrow looked at him as if he was an idiot.

"Why, isn't it obvious. I want you to scream." he said, the last word altered into a demonic way, throaty and deep. He took a canister of fear toxin and pulled a strip out, causing the can to spray toxin non-stop. He stuffed it down Michael's throat, just as Rick made a dash, well, step to the door.

"Ricky…how much to tap the lovely lady?" he asked. Rick was pulled onto the floor of the van by his collar. Scarecrow punched him in the face, breaking his nose. Rick's hands tried to go up to hold it, but was stopped.

"I'd say a lot more than you can afford, my afraid friend." he said knowingly, taking a canister and spraying it in his face. He broke down in screams. He wanted to stay and relish them, but he wanted to see Agnes.

He left the van and watched from a distant as the van rocked, and screams of utter terror erupted from inside. Scarecrow laughed until he was back into Jonathan's mind. Jonathan growled at the thought of losing two henchmen, which would cost money to replace. Shrugging it off, he turned around and walked back to the house, a hint of Scarecrow's strut visible.

He entered the broken down wooden abandoned manor, and found Gabe in the foyer, leaning against the wall and holding Agnes. The sight of her sleeping and unharmed, like he ordered, made him calm down. He silently took the woman from him and walked up the staircase, which proved to be a bit difficult. It seemed as though gravity was not agreeing with them.

After a stumble or two, he reached the top and trudged to his room. He was tired, unlike Scarecrow, who wanted to watch all of the chaos he had created. After the van event, he was willing to let Jonathan sleep. He used a hand, while still supporting her with the arm, and opened the door.

The bedroom wasn't lavish, but it wasn't as dangerous and unappealing as the rest of the place. He had found the place weeks before tonight for a nice hide out. He already knew his identity was compromised by those idiots at Arkham, so his apartment was out of the question, besides, he needed the space. He kept three, now one henchman here for a distraction if the police or Batman were to find him, so he could escape.

He set Agnes down on his side of the bed, and took off her blazer and heels. He knew she would never trust him if she awoke in the same bed as him with only her bra and underwear on. Scarecrow laughed in the back of his head, saying how she shouldn't trust them at all.

He pulled back the comforter, the cotton sheet, and took Agnes in his arms again. He put her in the bed, feet first, until her head touched the middle of the pillow. He covered her up with the sheet and comforter and undressed partially, taking off his mask, his shoes and socks, his shirt, and let his pants and undershirt remain. He crawled under the covers and touched her wrist from under the sheets. He was a bit surprised by after all this, she hadn't even stirred.

He turned Agnes's body to face him. Other than to look at her face as he drifted to sleep, he didn't want to choke on her hair. Her face wasn't in its normal expression. Instead of her slightly furrowed eyebrows and straightened mouth, she looked peaceful, non of the muscles in her face moving. He hoped he wasn't sleeping next to a dead person tonight. He moved his hand to check her pulse. It was normal. He smiled, brought her wrist to his cheek (on the face, you perverts) and sighed in bliss, gradually falling to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

(I do not own anything Batman.)

Her head was splitting open. Well, it may have been, maybe not, but it was possible from what happened last night. Last night…it was a blur, as if a scene in complete watercolors. But she did remember three things;

One, Margaret had killed someone by stabbing her through the temple with her heel.

Two, the whole city had gone crazy with absolute terror.

Three; the person who caused the city's panic had breached security and was in the office.

She began to wonder if she herself had been gassed with whatever the others were dosed with. Was it that feeling? Being completely blank on the inside and screaming on the outside? Of course. That was it. She was in her office, on the ground, stopping her screams. Margaret was most likely going through the same thing.

She tried to get up, but to no avail. She was too weak to move. She didn't really want to move anyways, she felt warm, something soft was on top of her, and her head was cushioned from the uncomfortable carpet flooring in her office.

She slowly opened her eyes, trying to survey her surroundings, but she had to give them time to adjust. Colors, mostly purples, pinks, yellows, and blacks took up her sight. Eventually she could see something, a ceiling fan, but that puzzled her. There was no ceiling fan in her office.

She tried to move her hand to feel her head, but something was holding it back. This only added to her confusion. She turned her head, no matter how much it hurt, and could barely make out was next to her. She tried to clench her hand, but apparently it was cradling something. That's when the warmth that she had not known was on her wrist vanished. It had moved to right beside her face, around her ear. She could feel someone was there.

"Good morning, Agnes…How are you feeling?" an all-to-familiar male voice asked. She knew it, she really did, but she couldn't find out who it belonged to. Her sight was getting better, so the identity would be confiscated sooner or later.

"Who are you?" Agnes said, masking her fear and anxiety with a serious tone, one that sounded like she had been awake for hours. She had a feeling that he saw through it.

"Don't move. I'll be right back." the voice said. Whatever was above her had moved a bit to her side, and then realization struck.

She was in a bed. With a guy. A guy she didn't know, by the sound of his voice.

Her upper torso shot up, and her eyes were wide with shock. Breathing became harder for her, and she couldn't help but let out a yelp. Her eye sight had cleared up completely now, but the man was gone somewhere.

The first thing on her mind was answered simply by checking if she still had clothes on. Shirt was on, nothing was unbuttoned, and pants weren't unzipped.

She looked around and found that the only source of light was a window. She jumped out of bed, but before she could reach the window, she crumpled to the ground in exhaustion. She tried to use the bed to push her up, but it only resulted in her being half on the floor, half not.

When tears were about to well up in her eyes, she heard footsteps. The footsteps sounding heavier and louder, like someone on stairs, then they went back to soft steps. The man was coming back. She looked around for something to defend herself with, but found none. The room was practically bare except for the…lamp.

She reached up to grab the lamp from the night stand, but couldn't reach. She pushed herself forward, stretched her muscles, and touched it with the tip of her fingers. She adjusted herself so she could grab it, then held it close to her. The footsteps stopped. The doorknob turned. She fell back to the ground and went into an upright fetal position, ready to swing the lamp.

"Agnes, I got you some…I see you." he said, sighing. He could see the tip of her head and the dark brown hair that covered it. He could also see the lamp in her hands. He raised an eyebrow, wondering how she could escape him with a lamp.

Agnes's head slowly turned around to peer at her 'host.' She dropped the lamp, and gaped at the man in the doorway. He was holding a tray with a glass of water and what looked like a pill, and a bandage wrapped on his arm. Her eyes darted to his face and she let out a silent scream.

"C-Crane, what…what did you do?" she yelled angrily. Her hands gripped the side of the bed and she hoisted herself up, bringing the lamp along. The muscles in her arms throbbed with pain.

"I spared you from experiencing your worst fears. You should be grateful for that, and I also brought you a painkiller and water. The after effects of your unconscious state most likely includes dehydration and immense pain." he said, setting the tray down on the bed. She sneered at him.

"What did you do to all of Gotham? Where am I, why am I even here? I'm not a hostage that you can get ransom money from, so what do you want!" she shouted, her hold on the lamp tightening. He locked the door behind him and slowly walked towards her, but she hissed at him.

"Don't come near me, you can tell me what is going on from where you are standing." she said, warning him by holding up the lamp. He stopped and sat down, making him seem closer than he actually was.

"I released my fear toxin into Gotham's water supply, and it's outcome was perfect. I didn't want you to be affected, so I knocked you out instead of leaving you to succumb to my hallucinogen. That's why I never contacted you yesterday." he said.

He went into an agonizingly long explanation of what his toxin was, how he created it, and much more, bringing up the Scarecrow. It took about twenty to thirty minutes for him to completely tell her what had happened, why it happened, and how it happened. When he was done, he searched her eyes for any form of emotion. She just backed away from him slowly.

This made Scarecrow livid.

He pushed Jonathan into his subconscious and made a pounce towards Agnes. She threw the lamp at him, and the base broke against his head. He staggered back, allowing her time to get away from him. She ran to the window, hoping it was unlocked and on a first floor. It wasn't. Second floor, definitely locked, with bars on the outside. She turned around but was faced with an enormous amount of pain. He looked more than angry, and his head had a large bleeding gash on it.

Scarecrow slammed her into the wall and his hand found its way around her throat. His thumb rubbed along her jaw line, but it seemed to hurt her. She let out a cry of pain and saw the colors came back, but only momentarily.

"Maybe I shouldn't have saved you. You know, Jonny has said some real good things about you, but me- I think you're a useless bitch. Well, maybe not totally useless, but you should be kissing the ground I walk on for making sure that you weren't violated by the others. I know why you are so stubborn, so prideful, I'm like that! But it isn't going to work with me. I'm not going to put up with your damn attitude problem, so you better change." he growled, his once calm voice deep and a bit throaty.

"Change? Change? Why should I change, I'm not staying here!" she screeched.

"Agnes, precious, I don't think your capable of making these decisions in your position. You are not leaving me. I'm sure you can get that through your thick skull."

"Precious! Why don't you get a cat if you're so lonely, but leave me out of this, let me go!" she exclaimed. Then it hit her.

Literally.

She fell to the ground out of shock and pain. The sudden slap had burned against her face, and she was sure a red mark of his hand would remain. The impact of his hand caused her face to turn to the side sharply. Her head remained turned, and she refused to look at him. She merely stared at the floor and let a tear slide down from her wide eyes.

Scarecrow rolled his eyes and grabbed her arm, pulled her up, and threw her on the bed. She let him throw her like a rag doll. He pulled her into a sitting position and then sat next to her. He pulled off the bandage that was wrapped tightly on his arm and brought up his injury to her face. She looked at it in confusion, and waited for him to explain the nails marks that dug into the skin, and the bruise around it.

"You did this, Agnes. On the first day we met." he said quietly. Jonathan was now in control, and he was determined to win her. Scarecrow would just have to get acquainted with her, on good terms, and she would have to be more tolerant.

"So what? I gave you a boo-boo, would you like me to kiss it?" she asked sarcastically. Well, she had recovered rather quickly.

"Oh, would you? I would appreciate it." he said, with a fine lace of sarcasm evident, but subtle. She gave him an incredulous look.

"You're sick! I don't believe this!"

"So you're not going to kiss it?"

"Screw off!"

"I told you to change you're attitude problem, Agnes, please don't make this hard for the both of us." he said quietly, his hand on her neck again. Her eyes went wide with panic, and she gave a sigh of defeat. His hand retreated to rest on her knee.

"Dr. Crane. What happened to Beatrice?"

"I don't want to talk about her, so I'm going to keep it short. She was my test subject, now she's insane, and she will never come back into society. Sorry." he said, his voice unwavering, a sure sign that he wasn't really sorry.

"You're a monster." she said quietly.

"No, no I'm not. Scarecrow is. I'm not."

"S-Scarecrow? Are you kidding me? So who am I talking to now?" she wondered, her voice gradually getting louder.

"Me. Jonathan. Anyways, Agnes, if you just adjust a bit, you and Scarecrow can be fine with each other, and we-"

"We? What we? There is no 'we', and…Crane, get your hands off of me!" she said, not exactly in a scream or shout, but it was loud. She pushed his hand off of her knee and backed up on the bed. He kept her there by grabbing a firm hold on her ankle.

"Agnes, calm down. Drink some water, the yelling can't be good for you, and take the painkiller. Please, I want you to be comfortable."

"How do I know that's a painkiller? It could be some drug to make me fall asleep for hours, so you can r-rape me or something! Or it can be that toxin in pill form, I know what you're trying to do!" she said, different theories and ideas as to what it could be filling her head.

"Or, it could be a painkiller to help you ease out of the muscle tension in your body. Ever think that I could be nice to you, on your side?"

"It sure as hell didn't seem like that when you were trying to strangle me." she growled. He muttered an apology and pulled the tray towards her.

She took the glass first, and as soon as she saw the ripple inside the cup, she realized just how thirsty she really was. But that didn't stop her from examining it first. She lifted the cup up high so she could see the bottom, if any substance he had out into it had settled to the bottom. Nothing. She decided to take his word on the water and painkiller and consumed both.

"Okay, I took it, now what is it really?"

"…Have you been officially diagnosed with paranoia?"

"No! Forgive me for acting paranoid, but the only outsider who has ever seen my face associated with a name has kidnapped me and drugged the city! Is it still going on outside?"

"Yes. It's brilliant, my research being put into action. This should last for two weeks, at the most."

"Two whole weeks?" she asked, or yelled, actually both.

"At the most. If something contains it into a confined space, then it will last longer. A fine example would be…oh, someone locking themselves in a closet. The toxin can't dissipate in those conditions. When I saw two weeks, I mean when every person should be sane again. Do you want something generalized, people lying out on the streets?"

"Wouldn't people lying in the streets be dead? If they're in the streets and all…"

"In the first hours, it's possible someone could operate a vehicle, but around this time it's not possible, they aren't coherent enough."

"…Give me the general estimate."

"Three days."

"I can't believe this." she groaned, pushing her head into one of the pillows.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"My temporary residence."

"You mean a hide out? People know you did this?"

"Oh, I'm sure they will. Some did before it even begun. Anyways…this is my room."

"Are you kidding me? Why did I wake up in here if its your room?" she asked. She had a feeling what the answer was, but hoped it was something else.

"Because you will be staying in here. With me."

"You saved me from fear, put your hand on my knee, brought me water and a painkiller, put me into a bed, took off my blazer and shoes off for my comfort, but then you choked me, slammed me into a wall, threw me on the bed, and knocked me unconscious. What am I to think?"

"I have grown fond of you, Agnes…Scarecrow just needs to curve his…lust, and see how beautiful you are as a person, not just for your looks." Jonathan said.

"You're scaring me, Crane. Though all of this is petrifying me, y-you're scaring me." she choked, scooting away from him.

"I'd be disappointed if I didn't." he said, leaving the room.


	8. Chapter 8

(I do not own anything Batman, and I'm making a few changes. Let's say, oh, Jonny has been a major criminal for quite some time and is…acquainted with the other villains…so I'm just going to guess that it's a time-skip? But I would still like to keep this chapter in a close time-frame with the last one. And have I been spelling Jonathan's name wrong?)

He was in utter fury, livid, and did not hesitate to let Scarecrow out to play. That damn flying rodent had somehow managed to 'save' everyone with an antidote.

Where the hell did he get an antidote?

He had ended up spraying his last henchman with the toxin, but it only made him angrier to think that his perfect outcome of research, experimentation, and etc. had been rendered useless by Batman.

He managed to pick up about four more henchmen, the others from the mess at the BCF building, and kept himself from spraying them. Just minutes ago, one of them left to pick up food. He wouldn't be surprised if he didn't come back.

He often thought about Agnes, locked up in his room, and how much he wanted to see her. He missed holding her wrist, her hand cradling his face. Though she was unconscious at the time, he still felt something by it.

It took all of his will from going upstairs and talking to her, because he was sure that he would lose his temper and spray her, and in that state, he didn't want to think of what Scarecrow would do, though the metal images did pop up from time to time.

As of now, he was working on his toxin, improving it, and making sure the antidote was in his memory, not on paper, just in case. He thought if he could adjust it a bit by add a component that wouldn't effect the result, but the present antidote was rendered useless, then he was successful.

Right now, it seemed it would take quicker that he thought. When the new toxin was finished, his temper would die down, and it wouldn't matter that the toxin wore off of the city.

It was fun while it lasted, and he wasn't caught. He also had a beautiful woman upstairs, and he could have her whenever he wanted. Not that he would, he wanted her trust first. Scarecrow would, but he was too busy with the toxin to even remember her.

"I swear to God, if I see that Bat again I'll cut him open and give him a more than lethal dose through his stomach!" Scarecrow yelled in a fit of frustration. Though the new toxin was relatively easy to make, he still seemed aggravated.

'At least we have something new, something he can't find the antidote to it. I'm mad, too, but it was going to end soon anyway…' Jonathan reasoned in his mind. Scarecrow rolled his eyes and continued to work.

Then, just as he was about to add a component, a loud knock sounded throughout the house. Scarecrow gritted his teeth, and waited for someone to get the door, and when he did hear the door opened, he also heard a yell and gun shot.

He calmly put his work down, walked to the door, and when he was about to close it behind him, he slammed it with all the force in his body, and fixed his older version of the fear toxin.

He crept to the foyer to see what was going on, but all he saw was one of the henchmen on the floor, dead, and another dead one outside of the door. He heard glasses clinking in the kitchen, and walked silently to the room.

"Crane, I must say, I didn't peg you as the Chinese take-out type. And wine, wow, this is very expensive, not that you paid for it. I know you want to be a good host, but you didn't have to do all of this for me." a man said, smugness lacing his voice.

His eyes landed on a man he thought was in Arkham. Apparently, Edward Nigma, aka; the Riddler, had broken out, and was now helping himself to a small portion of the Chinese food, and a glass of red wine.

"Quit the bull, Nigma, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, so Scarecrow is in today? Never mind, I came here because I need a place to stay while everything blows over. You honestly didn't hear? Because of your little stunt, almost everyone broke out, and now they're searching Gotham to find us! And I just know you would do almost anything to help out a dear friend, especially me! …Nice bandage." he said, his smile getting so wide it was tempting to slap it off.

"What makes you think I would help you?"

"Because I can help you."

"Ha! Nigma, what could you do to help me? I don't like you, I barely tolerate you because Johnny seems to think you're okay, so what?" he yelled, grabbing his wine glass.

He threw it at the opposite wall and watched the wine stain the wall and floor.

"Temper, temper. I could get you chemicals, supplies, I could help you in the event that you were taken into Arkham, I could assist you in various things like robberies and such." he listed, pouring himself another glass.

"You are one smug bastard. I'll take you to your room, and you have to get me two new henchmen. Follow me." Scarecrow growled.

'Why don't you let me handle this?' Jonathan asked, ready to be in control again.

"Fine…" Scarecrow said, barely above a whisper. He went back into the recesses of their mind and let Jonathan take over.

"Finish the wine, Nigma." Jonathan sighed, taking a glass for Agnes. He wouldn't prepare one for him now, or Edward would suspect something.

"I already finished. And the Chinese food was splendid. I love fried rice and sweet and sour chicken! How did you know?" he asked rhetorically.

"Just come on. Get some civilian clothes later, you look ridiculous. And I'm not letting you walk around in spandex everywhere in this place." Jonathan said, going up the stairs.

Unbeknownst to him, Agnes was seated close to the door listening to everything she could after the gun shot. She thought that Crane was the one who answered the door and got shot, and she was waiting to hear if her hero, the shooter, was coming up and walking around.

"This is my room, and if you go in there, I will spray you, I will hurt you, I will make sure you don't remember what you saw." Jonathan said, in all seriousness.

"What am I going to do in your room…scratch that, what is that noise?" Edward asked, listening to the noise.

Agnes had backed up and was silently screaming when she heard Jonathan's voice. She whimpered a bit, and quietly sobbed, knowing that she wasn't free from him. She then grabbed the empty glass of water and threw it against the wall, breaking it.

Jonathan heard it to, and they both stopped, straining to find the source. He slowly set the glass of wine on the banister. Jonathan whipped his head towards his room and ran up to it, his hand fidgeting to unlock the door.

As far as he knew, Agnes had broken the window and was trying to break off the bars. He swung the door open, and searched for her.

He found her in a fetal position, her hands over her face, in the corner, armed with a shard of glass. Whether from the lamp or cup, he didn't know.

He ran to her, stepping on glass while he was at it. He silently thanked himself for putting on shoes that morning. She lifted her head up a bit and readied herself with the glass.

Jonathan grabbed the arm with the sharp object, then spun her around so her back was to him. He slid his hand around her waste and lifted her up, tossing her onto the bed. He pried the shard from her hand and got off of her.

Still in the doorway, Edward watched in amusement as his…mutual friend mumbled words too quiet for him to hear, but he could tell it angered the woman. She fought against him as his hand made its way to her shoulder, holding her down.

"Don't you ever try that again, or I will remove everything breakable. I will not hesitate to get rid of everything in here until there is nothing but a mattress. I'm trying to make your stay here as comfortable as I can, but if you don't cooperate with me, then I'll have to punish you. See, I was going to give you a glass of wine, but after this, you are going to have to earn luxuries back." Jonathan said, holding her down.

Agnes attempted to force herself up, but ended up being pushed back down with force by her captor.

Her eyes then fell on the man in green spandex, with purple question marks here and there, a purple mask, flaming red hair, and a cane. The Riddler.

Jonathan followed her gaze to Edward, who looked like he was going to burst out laughing any minute.

"Shut the door and wait outside for me." Jonathan growled, stepping away from Agnes.

"Whatever you say, you don't have to hide anything from me." Riddler laughed, closing the door.

"I-Is that?"

"Yes, it's the Riddler. That isn't the point, Agnes, I'm not going to hurt you if you don't try to hurt me…or escape."

"But I don't want to be here!" she screamed, pounding her fists into the bed.

Jonathan scowled at her and proceeded to pick up every single piece of glass of the floor. When done, he threw them in the trash, collected the bag, and advanced to Agnes. He grabbed her by the jaw, her struggling, and kissed her on the cheek.

"I'll bring you back some Chinese food, just wait and don't you dare try to run." he whispered in her ear. He then turned around and left, leaving her to cry out of anger, fear, and undeniable hopelessness.

Jonathan closed the door calmly, locked it, and sighed, placing his forehead onto the cold wood. He wanted to go in there and make things right, but a part of him went against it, wanting her to have some alone time.

"Crane, Scarecrow, whatever! You little perverted boy!" he cooed sarcastically. Jonathan turned and glared at him.

"You want to stay here or what?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Yes." he replied, losing some of his smugness.

"The follow me." he muttered, walking past him. Edward trudged behind, and wondered to himself who the mystery woman was.


	9. Chapter 9

(I do not own anything Batman. Now, I've noticed whenever I read OC fics, they never include something I find important to a plot; her period. This chapter introduces her worries about this very thing. And there is a lot of masturbation references in this chapter.)

Piecing together that Jonathan was the infamous Scarecrow was simple enough, but mulling through her head about what to do was a problem.

The Scarecrow. She was locked in Scarecrow's room, in his hide-out, and Jonathan Crane, quoted; 'I have grown fond of you.' How would she manage to stay away from his bad side? His toxin? Rape? Murder?

Oh, this was worse; he had the Riddler staying there, too. Though Scarecrow told Riddler to stay away from her, she saw the glimmer of curiosity. She had a strong feeling that he would be making a visit sometime soon, that made her thankful she didn't see lust in his eyes, unlike Scarecrow.

She couldn't tell the difference between Jonathan and Scarecrow, only that Scarecrow was more violent, and more likely to murder her in her sleep, or rape, or spray her. Jonathan was basically a love sick puppy, and the only thing keeping him from staring at her while she ate, slept, and pondered was his work.

To say she was getting more and more uncomfortable with him watching her when she could was an understatement. She had something that she was die-hard humiliated to say. One of those things were to ask for a shower each day. The one that really got to her was that she was going to be in need of female hygiene products.

How do you ask a male rogue that you need tampons? Or needed to go to the bathroom on that note.

She didn't want to dwell on that question, she had other things to worry about; like her bladder. Besides, maybe, with just her luck, one of the female rogues would come by and she could ask them. It would be embarrassing and dangerous, but not nearly as much as asking a guy.

She was interrupted from her thoughts by a knocking at the door. Scarecrow? Riddler? A savior? She waited for the door to open. When it did, she wasn't surprised to see Jonathan bringing her dinner. Agnes didn't want to admit it, but she was feeling a bit hungry.

He set the tray down on the night stand and sat next to her, slightly turned and laying down. He waited for her to pick up something and eat, but she remained stubborn and stared right back at him.

"Can I help you?" she asked, clearly annoyed. Agnes didn't know why, but it embarrassed her to eat in front of him, so she didn't.

"In many ways, yes, but right now I want to spend time with you." he said smoothly. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why? What are you going to do?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well I was hoping we could talk about earlier. Are you going to apologize?"

"Apologize? Why the hell should I apologize! Y-You locked me in here, I can't go anywhere, I can't maintain good hygiene, and…and I don't know what to do!" Agnes exclaimed. She started crying at the last clause of her sentence.

She felt so powerless, exactly the opposite of who she was when she was in charge of BCF. She also felt Jonathan pulling her towards him, and she fought against his arms. Apparently, when she was emotionally weak, she was also physically weak, because she fell right into the 'hug.'

"Shh, shh…if I knew it affected you so negatively, then I would've done something about it. I promise you by the end of the week, you will have access to a very clean bathroom." he cooed, loving the close contact.

His arms wrapped around her and he smelled her hair. She was right, she needed a shower. Not exclusively because she started to smells, but the sweet mint scent was gone from her, and there still seemed to be some blood in her hair.

Agnes couldn't say 'thank you', purely because her throat hurt to much from holding back sobs, and if she did try to say something, she would end up bawling her eyes out to him. That would probably send the wrong message, much like now. At this point she didn't care if he thought she trusted him, she needed a hug.

Jonathan felt the hug meant much more. Literally, it started to get uncomfortable because of the blood and heat pooling into his abdomen, and the fact that he was about to reach the point of taking her right then. He quickly kissed her forehead, then dashed out of the room as nonchalantly as possible.

His hands fumbled with the keys as he locked the door in a rush. He shook with the feeling of arousal, the one that didn't seem to go away. He looked down and noticed his groin was making a dent in his pants. Then he noticed Edward coming his way.

'Damnit, Jonny, just go in there and screw her brains out. Or go take a cold shower, but whatever you do, don't let Riddler see your boner!' Scarecrow barked.

Jonathan decided to take the shower, and ran to the nearest bathroom. He didn't see what features it had before it was too late. He ran into a half bathroom; without a shower. He thumped his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Hey, you okay in there?" Riddler chuckled, knocking on the bathroom door.

"I'm fine. Just dealing with some stress from Agnes." he said, not knowing his voice was shaky. That meant he didn't know why Edward was laughing his ass of on the other side of the door.

"So Agnes is the woman's name. Anyways, I'll leave you to release all that…stress." Riddler said, continuing to laugh as he walked off. Jonathan mentally cursed him.

'Well, you know what to do…right?' Scarecrow asked.

"I'm not stooping as low as a hormonal teenager." Jonathan growled.

'The tightening pants say otherwise, now drop them and do your business. Unless you think you can walk to another bathroom. You can still walk, right?' Scarecrow asked, laughing at his other half's misery.

Jonathan swallowed hard, bit his lip, and decided to do it even though it was an embarrassing step back for the Master of Fear.


	10. Chapter 10

(I do not own anything Batman.)

He faced the challenge of supplying Agnes's bathroom, as he promised. He wanted something no where near an exit, along with a shower, it had to have a bath. Windows would be nice, but they could only face weeds and run down abandoned buildings. Not much of a view.

The other problem was giving her hygiene products such as shampoo, soap, toothpaste, conditioner, hair brush, tooth brush, perfume and body lotion. What does she normally use?

He wanted her to have the same shampoo that made her hair smell of mint, and he was still debating what to do about shaving razors. He really wanted her to use them, but they could most definitely be used as a weapon.

He also had to consider new clothes. She needed something that she would be comfortable sleeping in, going out in, walking around the house in, and any other occasion. But, he wanted something that would allow him to appreciate her body.

His thoughts then drifted to whether or not lingerie would be appropriate. Of course it wouldn't, but he wanted to see her in it. But wouldn't she be humiliated by it, and not trust him?

'Uhh, Jonny…do you really care? Cause I sure as hell don't. Get her lingerie, make her go commando! I don't care if she's embarrassed, I want to see that ass.' Scarecrow growled, irritated by Crane's consideration.

"Leave it alone. If you can't appreciate her, then don't talk about her! Don't touch her, go near her, just leave her alone. I'll decide about the night wear." Jonathan muttered angrily.

'What are you going to do? Get her extra large sweat pants and one of you t shirts?' Scarecrow scoffed.

Jonathan didn't reply, and did his best to ignore him. Eventually, he went away. Not forever, no. Never forever.

That would be too good to be true.

So, Jonathan resumed to ponder as to how he would get all of the supplies, and which bathroom he should let her use.

He left his basement and paced on the main floor. It was a very crisp and clear day, perfect to get his supplies. But where would he go to get them? He wasn't a female, he didn't know where they got their things.

But he did know someone who did.

He smiled at the realization, and the plan started to formulate as soon as he made his way up the stairs. He knocked on Riddler's door impatiently, and waited for his reply.

"Who is it?" Edward asked. Jonathan could sense him smiling on the other side of the door.

"Who else would it be? I just want to know something; did Harley or Poison Ivy escape when you did, by any chance?" he asked.

"Crane, you already have one woman, and I don't think they are really your type…" Riddler trailed off.

"Just answer the damn question." Scarecrow snarled.

"They both did. Well, Poison Ivy dragged Harley, because she was refusing to leave without her 'Mr. J.' They're at Ivy's green house, I presume." Riddler said, still not opening the door.

"Okay. I'm going out for a while. If you so much as touch Agnes, if you talk to her, open her door, I will leave you for the Batman to find." Crane said, his voice low and threatening.

"Fine, fine. I'm keeping myself entertained." Riddler said nonchalantly.

"…"

"…God no! That's your thing, apparently. I'm working on crossword puzzles." Riddler laughed, realizing why Crane was silent.

Jonathan ignored his accusations, and simply walked away, to his room. He was going to be thinking about her a lot, and he wanted to see her one last time.

'Jonny; you're going to the green house, not sinking on the Titanic.' Scarecrow said.

Jonathan pushed him away and pulled out the keys, finding the specific one that would unlock the door, unlocking the door, and pushing the door open.

She was sitting on the bed, staring out the barred window. Her head whipped to the direction of the door when it opened, and her face softened a bit in disappointment. He climbed onto the bed and rested next to her.

"I'm going to be gone for a while. I'll be back soon, and I may be with some people who are going to take you shopping. You aren't going to escape. If you do, I will hunt you down, and you will regret it with every fiber of your body." he warned, nuzzling into her hand.

"Oh, what are you going to do? Scare me to death?" she asked, scoffing at him. She pulled her hand away from his grip.

"I'll let Scarecrow do whatever he wishes to you." Jonathan growled, staring straight into her now slightly scared eyes.

He grabbed her hand again, along with her other one, and slammed them against the headboard. She cried in pain, and Jonathan took the time to capture her mouth in his. It was a forceful kiss, and she was sure her whimpering wasn't going to make him lighten up.

He forced his tongue against her lips, teeth, and then explored her mouth. He straddled her, and deepened the kiss. He practically shoved his tongue deep into her throat, causing her to gag. He ended up sucking on her lower lip, which made her jump, then make a noise of protest.

He sensed her distress and realized what he was doing. He let her lips go and backed up, breathing heavily. Her eyes were welling with tears. She shook violently, and backed up until her back was rammed against the headboard.

"…I'll just g-" Crane was about to say, but Agnes cut him off.

"Go." she finished in a demanding tone. Her voice was heavy, but quivering.

Crane didn't have to be told twice. He got up and left before he could cause anymore damage. He locked the door behind him, trudged downstairs, received keys to one of the vans from earlier, and headed out.

The green house looked exactly the same as it always had. The inside walls were so covered with vines, flowers, anything and everything, that you couldn't see inside.

Jonathan didn't hesitate to knock on the door of said green house. He was in no mood for games; right now he wanted to make Agnes happy so she would trust him again.

Trust led to permission.

Permission led to toleration.

Toleration led to liking.

Liking led to adoration.

Adoration led to love.

Poison Ivy opened the door and glared at Crane crossing her arms. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow as the Master of Fear kept thinking about what else permission led to.

"Can I help you, Scarecrow?" she asked in an apathetic tone.

"…Yes. May I come in? I need to talk to you and Harley about something." he said.

"Ugh…fine, get in here." Poison sighed, allowing him in.

He took up the offer and strolled inside, observing everything. He could hear cartoons on somewhere in the place, and he could see some of the vines twitch and fidget.

Out of nowhere, Harley jumped out from a doorframe that looked like it led into a kitchen. She was smiling like a mad woman, but that was normal for her. She ran at him with open arms.

"Hey Scarecrow, how's it hanging?" she asked loudly, pulling him into a death grip of a hug.

"I need a favor from you two." he said simply.

"All right. Tell us what you want. We'll decided if its worth doing." Poison said, sitting down on a chair made entirely of vines.

"I…well, there is a woman I'm quite fond of, and-" Crane was cut off by Harley.

"Oh my God, you have a girl? Does she like you back? Who is she? What does she look like?" she bombarded him with questions.

"Harley, be quiet, I want to hear this." Poison Ivy said, smiling.

"…And she's been living with me for a while. Not a while, since that night I gassed the Narrows and, well, all of Gotham." Crane said. He was again interrupted by Harley.

"Are you telling me you kidnapped her?" she asked, trying to suppress her laughter.

"Oh Scarecrow, I knew it was too good to be true. A woman with you willingly." Poison said, smirking at Crane.

"Anyways, she's been upset about not having accommodations and proper hygiene. I already have a bathroom in mind to use, but I want you two to take her 'shopping' for supplies so her stay with me will be as comfortable as possible. So I was wondering if you would take her to get necessities. Have some female bonding time." Crane said, shrugging.

"You want us to befriend her and take her shopping?" Poison Ivy asked incredulously.

"Oh, come one Red! It would be fun, and don't tell me you aren't dying to know what woman caught Scarecrow's eye! Ooh! Crane, what's her name?" Harley asked.

"Agnes." he said, leaving out her last name.

"Agnes…?" Poison pushed.

"Agnes Bouprie." he answered reluctantly.

"Bouprie…why is that familiar?" Poison pondered aloud to herself.

"Bouprie Cosmetics and Fashion. She's the owner, founder, and such. The woman who nobody has seen, associated with the title." Crane said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"…Oh my gosh, are you serious? Red, the owner of BCF! Nobody has seen her and-" Harley was cut off by Poison.

"I heard. So you want us to take her shopping? And why don't you take her?" Red asked.

"Because the only person she has talked to is me. I know women need to talk to each other sometimes, and she has been locked in the same room for days. She needs interaction with other women. And…I don't plan on ever letting her leave, so she better get used to my lifestyle, and comfortable with the people I associate with." he said.

"Okay, but…have you even let her use the bathroom?" Harley asked, leaning forward.

"She's never asked." he said, shrugging.

"Of course she's not going to ask you, you're a guy! She's probably not going to mention her period either! Red, we have to do this! She could get a disease in her urinary system!" Harley exclaimed.

"…Harley, I'm surprised you know what urinary system is, actually." Crane said, a bit impressed.

"Yeah…okay, we'll do it. But we are taking her wherever we want to take her. So when do we do this thing?" Poison Ivy asked.

"Today. I was thinking you would come with me and pick her up while I work on my toxins and her bathroom." he said, making his move towards the exit.

"Now? Well…this will be fun! C'mon Red! We can cause all kinds of mischief!" Harley said, clapping and jumping up and down.

"Fine. Lets go, I've got nothing better to do today." Poison Ivy mumbled, following Crane. Harley ran right behind her.

"This is going to be so much fun!" Harley said.


	11. Chapter 11

(I do not own anything Batman. This chapter is rated M because of…well, Agnes has to go buy 'night clothes' that Crane wants her to wear, and she sees some pretty disturbing stuff. )

"Agnes…" Crane said softly, knocking on his bedroom door.

Agnes sat on the bed, exercising her bladder. She looked up at his voice, and stared at the door, waiting for him to come in. He didn't. It took her a few seconds to realize he was waiting for permission to come in.

"What?" she asked bitingly.

"Harlequinn and Poison Ivy are here to take you shopping. Please come out, now." he said in a more demanding tone.

Harlequin? Poison Ivy? What the hell? Agnes slowly rose from the bed and walked to the door cautiously. When her hand reached the knob, she heard a click from the other side. She opened the door and peered outside.

Only Jonathan stood there, and he had his hands behind his back, and his head held high, as if a butler. He pulled her out of the room by the wrist, but they didn't go downstairs. He stood in the hallway with her, and wrapped his arms around her waist in a loose hug.

"While you are out, I expect you to get a good meal, some things that will make you more comfortable with your stay here, the same shampoo and conditioner you used before coming here; whatever made your hair smell like mint, and…" he trailed off, looking over the second floor and down to the foyer.

She heard talking; a man, and two women. One had a thick Brooklyn accent, the other a smooth and sultry voice. The man sounded like a, well, a man. It must have been the Riddler with the Harlequin and Poison Ivy.

"And…something nice for bed. Understand that I don't want you to sleep in sweat pants and sweat shirts. And I have talked to them about it, so they know what you aren't getting. Get some day clothes, make-up, shoes, anything you want." he said.

He took one of her hands, unwrapping his from her waist, and guided her down the stairs. The voices had stopped, and Agnes could tell they were looking at the base of the stairs expectantly. She was shaking with fear, and Jonathan enjoyed it.

"Everybody; this is Agnes Bouprie. Agnes, this is Poison Ivy, Harlequin, and Riddler. Don't worry, Riddler won't go with you." he smirked.

Agnes was still reluctant to be handed from the Scarecrow to the other girls. They seemed inviting enough, but they were murderers, among other things. That is what made her slowly shuffle her feet towards the girls, much to everyone's amusement.

"Hiya! You can call me Harley, or Harls. You can call her Red, right?" she asked, turning to her friend. Poison Ivy nodded.

"So I hear you're the owner, manager, and founder of that fancy clothes and make-up company. Bouprie Cosmetics and Fashion, yeah, that's it." Harley said, looking up as if pondering the name.

Agnes slowly turned to Jonathan, a look of pure malice on her face. She glowered at him for a good second or two when Riddler came into the conversation.

"It is amazing how you've managed to stay hidden for so long." he murmured, staring at her with furrowed eyebrows.

"C'mon, Agnes, lets go! We'll have so much fun, I can see we will be really good friends." Harley beamed, tugging at her wrist.

She ended up being practically dragged to the door by Harley, and Poison Ivy followed, looking content, but not as happy. Agnes was about to feel the sun for the first time in a while, when Jonathan jerked her out of Harley's grip and grabbed her hand. He raised it and his lips met the back of her palm.

His example of chivalry had disgusted her, so much so that she could feel him smirking against her hand. Harley cooed little pieces of; 'Oohs' and 'Awws' and the like, while Poison Ivy quirked an eyebrow and smirked. Agnes yanked her hand away from them and walked to the door, arms crossed.

Poison Ivy walked after her, and opened the door, motioning for her to get out. She complied, and Poison Ivy followed, with Harley in tow.

"Alright! Girls' day out! Where do you want to go first, Agnes?" she asked.

"I-I'm fine with anywhere." she said quietly, avoiding their gazes.

"Look, we aren't around Crane anymore, you don't have to be scared. We aren't going to kill you. We know it must be awful being locked up with him, and you must really need to use the bathroom." Poison said nonchalantly, climbing into the driver's side of a van.

"Oh yes, yes I do." Agnes groaned, going to sit in the back.

"Well, we're going to stop somewhere so you can go, and then we'll shop till we drop!" Harley squealed.

"…Alright…" Agnes said, unsure.

They had drove around for quite some time until they came across a gas station with only one car parked in the parking lot. They screeched to a halt and got out. Harley had broken the window with the head of a gun, then they went inside.

This was a huge step for Agnes; she had never ever done anything like It before. She had never broken glass, never been somewhere without permission. She always had to be the one to give permission. She never broke in anywhere, ever.

But that didn't matter much at the moment, because the only thing on Agnes's mind was to make it to the bathroom. She had weaved through the aisles of lighter fluids and donuts until she reached the restroom, and she did not hesitate to go in there, do her business, and break the door down trying to get out.

"Ready?" Harley asked, her smile wide. Agnes nodded.

While she was in the restroom, they had apparently killed the cashier. She could see blood leaking from behind the counter, and as much as it frightened her, she had seen worse. Like brain matter on somebody's heel. She shivered at the memory of that night, how Margaret killed the girl whose name she couldn't remember.

"Alright, lets go to that store on 5th streets, Red! They have really nice hair care products and perfume. Maybe they'll be a sexy piece you can wear for Crane, eh?" Harley laughed, nudging Agnes playfully.

Agnes felt a pit in her stomach. She let out a shaky breath, and started to breathe heavily. She turned to face the window, and it took Harley a while to notice that she had tears in her eyes. It didn't take much to figure out why.

"Aww…Agnes, I didn't mean it like that, I didn't know…so he actually kidnapped you. You were just a semi-normal woman and he picked you up and locked you in his room. Huh. I thought there was something between you two when he said he loved you." Harley said in an attempt to comfort her.

"When I first woke up, I was in his bed. He had taken off my blazer, heels, socks, but nothing like my shirt or pants. I woke up with him holding my hand to his face. Sometime later he began to strangle me. He had slapped me and almost broke my wrists. Then he had given me a painkiller, almost gave me wine, and he promised me my own bathroom. Not in all of that order, though." she said emotionlessly.

"…He has hit you?" Harley asked quietly.

"Yes. Its not surprising though. With Crane and Scarecrow, I'd be surprised if I was treated like a queen. Hell, if he sticks a ring on my finger and says 'I do' I wouldn't be surprised if he held a can of fear toxin next to my face and forced me to say the same. The guy is a lovesick puppy, but if he doesn't get his way, he gets violent." she mumbled.

"Have you thought about escaping?" Red asked.

"Numerous times. But…I guess I'm just afraid of him. I'm afraid, if I get caught what he will do to me. I haven't tasted the toxin yet, and I really don't want to any time soon." Agnes said.

"Don't be afraid of him, Agnes. That will only entice him, as sickening as it sounds." Red mumbled.

Agnes didn't reply, but just stared out the window. She watched the city pass her by, in all of its misery. Fancy cars, dirty cars with gun shot holes in them, limousines, and wrecked cars littered the roads. Each one of them held someone who was completely unaware of the occupants of the van.

She stared up at the Bouprie empire building. It was roughly the same height as Wayne Towers, if not; shorter. But only by a couple of floors. She stared at the top floor, and wondered what Margaret had done once she had woken up. Hopefully, she continued to run the company as if nothing happened.

"Oh, we're here! And it looks like its clo-osed!" Harley said in a sing-song voice.

"…Is that a good thing?" Agnes asked, confused by her excitement.

"Of course. Now we won't have much trouble getting whatever we want without somebody calling the cops, or alerting the Batman." Red said, parking the van.

They all got out, and as soon as Agnes's heel stepped onto the pavement, Harley grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the entrance of the store. She didn't even bother to pick the lock, for she just kicked through the glass and shot the alarm.

"We've robbed this place before, we know where all the camera are, see," she said, shooting all twelve of the cameras, "And now we can let loose!" Harley said, clapping her hands. She ran into the store, disappearing from the women's sight.

"Alright Agnes. You can read, I presume, so you know where everything is. When you have all your hair products and maybe some perfume and make up, then come back here. This isn't the best place to get clothes." Red said, leaning against a table.

Agnes was offended by the orders, and the reading statement, but she didn't say anything. For her safety, that is. So, she did as was told of her. At least they weren't orders from Crane.

There were two aisles entirely based for hair. One side was shampoo, the other conditioner, then styling gel, and hair accessories. She spent her time looking for the shampoo she had used before the events happened.

Sometimes she would find a generic version of her old shampoo and sniffed it to see if it was the same, but she knew Jonathan would be able to tell if it wasn't. Was it so hard to find the specific brand and type? Apparently not, because she then found a large bottle of it.

She gladly took it, and set out to find the matching conditioner, which was much easier. She then turned to the aisle for hair accessories and grabbed simple black, beige, and white pony tails. She was just about to find a basket for all of her supplies when something caught her eye.

Bobby pins.

She remembered back in her child hood when she would pick the locks of her grandmother's door and sneak in, and she would spend the whole night drawing up designs while her grandmother sew the clothes. She never knew why her mother had locked her grandmother's door at night. She remembered thinking that grandmother was a hostage.

Needless to say, she was crafty with bobby pins. She took them and found a basket up front. She set the items in there and took it with her, trying to find soap, perfume, and make-up. What? She wasn't going to waste this trip.

She found some simple dark brown, plum, and black eye shadow, black eyeliner, plum lip gloss, and dark brown blush. Never her own brand, though. That was against Agnes, buying from herself. It didn't go well with her.

She eventually found a small bottle of rather expensive perfume. She spritzed it on her wrist, inhaled its scent, and determined it to be something she wanted. She took three bottles, not knowing when she would be back here.

After some wandering, she located a gift basket with body lotion, soap, hand lotion, and a wash cloth with A.B stitched into it. It had a very clean, intoxicating scent that drove Agnes to put it in a basket and take it to the meeting area.

"You got everything you want from here?" Red asked. Harley was already there, her arms full of beach blond hair dye.

"Uh…yeah. I have everything." Agnes said, still calculating of what to do about the bobby pins.

"Alright! So, when we go past the door, we run to the van and get in. Cause as soon as we leave, the alarm will start again, and cops will come. We don't want to stop yet!" Harley laughed, sprinting out the store.

Red and Agnes darted after her, both of them frustrated at the bubbly blond for not letting them prepare to run. They did make it to the van, and they did end up driving away like maniacs. They never even heard police sirens, so they were good.

"That was amazing, I'm so pumped up!" Harley screeched, punching her fist in the air.

"Yeah, well…Harley, lets go to that boutique, you know the one? I'm sure they have nice day clothes for Agnes, and then we can get something to eat." Red suggested.

"Sounds good to me." Harley shrugged, still smiling.

Why the hell was she always smiling?

"So…Agnes…how did you meet the doctor. I mean, he didn't just find you and take you, did he? You knew him before, right?" Harley pressed.

"Well…I paid him to come up and evaluate my assistant. He had to come to my place of business, because I rarely leave the building. I couldn't have her be seen going to Arkham, so I called him and asked for his presence. He came, and he found out who I was. It was the first time someone outside of my line of work saw me, and knew my place. She ended up having to go to Arkham after a breakdown. I can see now that it was his doing….he would come every week, month, or so, to give me an update. One day he didn't come. Soon after this- this fear night, or whatever its called, happened. Two of my employees ran up to alert me that the gas had gotten into the building, and we watched the commotion from my office. It was sickening. Eventually the power went out, my new assistant turned out to be a crazy and killed one of the girls, one had a seizure, the lights were flickering on and off, red lights, and then he came into the room and gassed my assistant. I ran out of the room, he caught up, and knocked me unconscious." Agnes explained.

"I never knew Crane was capable of being attracted to someone. Let alone a civilian." Red said.

"He doesn't seem like the type." Agnes agreed.

"Well I think its romantic. I mean; whisked away by someone who loves you …everybody thinks you were kidnapped, but you were actually having an affair with a Gotham rogue, isn't it scandalous? I wish Puddin' would do that for me." she said dreamily.

"Yes, but I was kidnapped. I wasn't whisked away, I was- am being locked up in his room. Do you know how it feels to have control over hundreds of people, and then it all slips away and you are being controlled? Like that," she said, clapping her hands, "is when your life makes a turn for the worse."

"Sheesh, no need to get offended, Agnes. Oh…oh, we're here! Agnes, you will love this place; its super expensive and really classy. I've robbed this place once, but the things were just too…neat. Nothing screamed what I'm about, ya know? I'm sure you will find clothes that you wore before in here." she said, tilting her head.

"I don't know where my employees got clothes for me to wear, I just made it a strict rule not to wear make-up and clothes from my company." Agnes said, unbuckling her seatbelt.

"That's a good rule to go by." Red said, slamming her door shut.

Harley was, of course, already breaking into the store. There was no loud alarm, but it seemed as if Harley knew there was one because she fired her gun about fifteen times. Agnes was a bit worried as to if anyone heard it, but it seemed nobody was around.

"Day clothes here. After lunch, we'll take you for night clothes, then we can go to a place on the way home for things like razors, tampons, shaving cream, and everything. I don't know what we're going to do about lunch though…" she said, the last sentence more to herself.

Red and Agnes walked up to the store and entered, closely following Harley. She threw clothes off the racks, dug through shoe racks, and broke the cash register. She squealed in delight at the sight of cash and stuffed it in a shopping bag.

"You know the drill, get the clothes and meet back here." Poison ordered, standing around.

Agnes didn't understand why she needed to meet back somewhere in this boutique, particularly because there weren't any aisles that blocked a view, and it was a very small and open place. Clothes were folded on stands and hung up on the wall mostly, and then the portable racks were scattered about, and a part in the back with shoes everywhere.

She found several white fitted button ups, two blazers, six black business pants, two simple black heels, and a dress. The dress stood out from the rest of her choices, considering how…elegant and classy said dress was.

"Nice dress. Alright Harley, ready to go? Did you get all the cash?" Red asked.

"Uh…yeah! I got these really hot shoes, too! I'm going to look nice for puddin' tonight." she giggled, coming out of the back with a pair of knee-high black high heels.

"Sure. I don't know why you stay with that…man, I guess. Okay, lets go get something to eat. I guess we could go to…I don't know, where do you want to go?" Red asked.

"Iceberg?" Harley asked.

Agnes didn't know if it was code for something, or if she saw something that resembled an Iceberg because, well, she didn't know what meaning it had to the two. But it must have meant something, because Red said sharply, "No."

"No. Its too dangerous for Agnes to meet any of them yet. Besides, I don't think Scarecrow would like that very much." Poison growled.

"If it upsets him, then why aren't you doing it?" Harley asked, tempting Red.

"…No. Lets go to a food court or something. No matter how much I would love to piss off Crane, I don't want Agnes to personally meet them just yet. I don't want her to be mentally scarred." Poison Ivy muttered.

"I'm all for a food court. I haven't been to one in about two years, maybe four. When I started BCF, I never left the building in case of emergency or very important meetings. So I haven't been out and about Gotham for a while." Agnes said.

"Wow…we need to get you to a casino, to the Iceberg, some clubs, you need to live! Did you lock yourself in there for that long?" Harley asked.

"Yes."

"Oh my gosh, its like Crane was your night in shining armor, and he whisked you away from the tower!" Harley gushed.

Agnes knew better this time than to point out the kind of hell she felt she was in. It was nice that Poison Ivy could understand that it was an awful experience, but her apathy and offensive side was a bit of a flaw. Harley was very kind, yet oh-so trigger-happy, among other things.

"Well, what about here?" Red asked, pulling into a café looking place.

"Sure!" Harley chirped.

"I'm fine with it." Agnes said.

"Okay, Agnes. What do you want? I'm going to go in there, have everyone fall asleep with this," Red pulled out a tube of green liquid, "and take whatever is available."

"I'll just have a coffee and soup…any soup." Agnes said, eyeing the tube intently.

"I'll have pop and ice cream!" Harley said, smiling.

"…This is a café, Harley. They don't have ice cream. I'll get you a sandwich." Red said slowly.

She went inside the building, leaving her and Harley in the van. Agnes could hear screaming inside. Shouting, yelling, breaking glass, over-turning tables, and then silence. It continued to remain silent, and then Red came out with bags on her arms, and strutting back to the van as if nothing had ever happened. She got into the driver's seat and passed Harley a bag. She then passed Agnes one, and kept her own.

"Eat up, and be quick about it." she told Harley and Agnes.

Agnes wasted no time eating her meal. All she did was drink the soup as if it was a drink. She really didn't want to get on Poison Ivy's bad side. Her being so apathetic could lead to her not caring if Agnes was dead.

And with that; she guzzled the rest of her soup and her frap.

"Give me the trash, I'll make sure it actually gets recycled." Poison Ivy ordered.

Agnes put the Styrofoam cups into her bag, along with a spoon, and handed them to Poison Ivy, careful not to touch her skin. She was still wary about the green.

"Red, lets just go, I'll finish this when we get to wherever we're going. Where are we going?" Harley asked with a full mouth.

"To get her night clothes." Poison Ivy mumbled, driving back onto the main road.

"Ooh! We can take her to where I go! I got this sexy red piece there, and I'm going to try it out tonight! Puddin' will be revving up his Harley!" she said, making motorcycle noises and pretending to rev an engine.

"…Okay then. We'll go where you go, I just hope Agnes won't be disturbed for life." Poison said, concentrating on the road.

"…You know, if I may be so bold, you guys remind me a lot of the friends I had in the Narrows when growing up." Agnes said, staring out the window.

"You grew up in the Narrows? Wow, ooh, which one am I like? Who is she like?" Harley asked, jumping on the topic.

"You remind me of Abby. Poison Ivy, you remind me of Tiny Tina." she said quietly.

"Call me Red." Poison said apathetically.

"What was Abby like?" Harley asked.

"She had a new boyfriend every month. She was bold, daring, and that was what killed her. She was confident, and Latina. She was the prettiest, and the one with the most spunk. But she lived with a foster family. Her foster brother raped her at some point, and when she was in the hospital, he killed her. Asphyxiation." she said, trying not to remember the day she received the news.

"Hmm, too bad." Poison Ivy said.

"What was Tiny Tina like?" Harley asked enthusiastically.

"She was short. Asian and black. Her dad was a very important member of Triads. She was the quieter type, and she was the smarter one. She was cunning, devious, quiet, and violent. She never let anybody talk bad about us. But then she moved to China." Agnes said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Triads? Pretty important…" Poison Ivy mumbled to herself.

"Wow, you were into some deep stuff, weren't ya?" Harley said.

"Oh…you don't know the half of it." Agnes muttered.

"Red, take a left! Left!" Harley shouted, jumping from her seat.

Poison Ivy made a sharp left turn, which resulted in Agnes flying out of her seat and hitting the sliding door. She could hear the tires screech and could feel gravity tugging at her. She grabbed sides of the door in an attempt to keep her from being thrown around, and she shut her eyes tightly, waiting for the turn to end.

Was this a freaking U-turn?

"Alright Agnes, we-…Agnes? Where are…" Harley was confused by her absence in the seat, and then craned her neck to see Agnes on the floor, gripping the sides of her door and eyes shut tightly.

She burst into a fit of giggles. Upon hearing Harley call her name, and feel the turn stop, Agnes looked up from her spot on the van's floor.

"Th…That wasn't f-funny." she panted.

"It was fun! Like a roller coaster." Harley said, hopping out of the van and pulling the door to the side from behind her.

Agnes fell out and onto the ground, hard. That caused the wind to be knocked out of her. Poison Ivy came around and helped her up.

"Well…this is basically our last stop. Then we drive you home and pick up the rest of your things on the way." she said.

"I. Love. This. Place. It has all the things you need to look sexy! I get all of my lingerie here, and Mr. J says I look hot in my stuff…sometimes." Harley said, adding the last part with a sad tone.

Agnes felt a pit in her stomach, and it didn't help when she saw this place was for more…risqué undergarments. She was planning on getting a fitted t shirt and short shorts for sleeping in, but that option had flown out.

She couldn't believe this was really happening. She was getting scanty clothing to wear for a Gotham rogue, for the Scarecrow, for the Master of Fear. She would have to dress like a whore every night, adding a risk to rape. Any moment in time, he could spray her with fear toxin, kill her, rape her, beat her, anything, and she would be powerless.

"Come on, we don't have all day." Red said, leading her into the store.

Harley rushed in, and held a gun to a woman's head. She seemed to be the only person in the store, and she wasn't as scared as most would be. It was probably a normal thing for her, from what Agnes had heard from Harley.

"Alright, you know the drill, put on the blind fold and get in the third dressing room. Alright, get!" Harley said, pushing the girl lightly into a dressing room.

"Red, can you make sure she doesn't get out?" Harley asked.

"Fine. You and Agnes go find something. Harley, don't force her into something she doesn't want to wear. This is against her will, remember." Poison Ivy sighed.

"Oh, alright. Come on!" Harley said happily, dragging Agnes by the wrist to a section.

When Agnes saw what was in a passing section, her mouth dropped. Never in her days would she ever allow designs like these to be made. There were tassels, light-up thongs, among other things that made Agnes vomit a bit in her mouth.

"Come on, I'll show you the more appropriate stuff. You seem kinda uneasy." Harley inferred.

She pulled her past more sections, and at one point she closed her eyes and wished she was back at work, being dragged by Beatrice to show her a breathtaking design that could be bought all over the world. But those were just unrealistic expectations. She would most likely never see her office again.

"Here, you can browse around this area for underwear, it's the closest thing to normal bras and panties. Then I'll take you to another section where you can get some special pieces for your knight in burlap rags." Harley said, completely ignoring Agnes's anxiety overwhelmed expression. Before Agnes could reply, she was left alone in the section.

Deciding it would only be best to find something, she searched. She searched through things that weren't as disgusting as what she had previously saw. Thankfully, she found things that she could wear that would hopefully not draw Crane's attention, but they were unfortunately all black and lacey.

She did want to find Harley, but she really didn't want to leave this section, for fear of what else was there. So she just waited, and waited. She could hear Harley rummaging around clothes, and the occasional squeal that could only mean she found something she liked. Agnes didn't want to call on Harley and interrupt her browsing, for fear she would be angered by that.

Then she could hear her coming towards her. When she saw Harley's face, Agnes gave a small smile. When she saw what was in her arms, her mouth dropped. Very slutty night clothes, and among those items were things she rather not see.

"Ready for the more…clothes?" Harley asked, her smile just as big as the Joker's.

"Yeah, if you can call it clothes. Can I get a bag for these, though?" Agnes asked, motioning to her garments.

"Later. I can't wait to find you something! This is so much fun!" she said, once again dragging her to another section of the store.

"I think you would fit into the elegant sexy, not the wild hot. What do you think?" Harley asked, putting a finger on her chin and looking up.

"I don't wear thongs. Maybe just a simple white t shirt?" Agnes suggested nervously.

"Yeah, you're so not the wild type. Come on, I'll show you where they keep the classy stuff." she said, again dragging her.

"My wrist is going to be bruised in the morning…" Agnes mumbled to herself.

"Now look at all of this stuff! This, this, this, oh; definitely this," she said, grabbing clothes from the hangers, "this…Oh…my…God…this would look perfect on you!" Harley shrieked.

She pulled out a tight-looking chardonnay colored gown that fell to the floor, and it had a slit on the side that went up to her thigh. It was very low-cut, and made of silk. Agnes didn't seem to find anything wrong with it.

"This could be considered a dress, though…do you want it?" Harley asked, a bit…disgusted?

"I think its fine. This is actually my favorite color, it goes well with my skin." Agnes said, taking the gown.

"Alright, only this color! We want you to look your best for your man." she giggled, searching through mounds of mainly lace and silk.

Agnes didn't know why Harley kept insisting that Crane was her savior, or her lover. She hadn't shown the least amount of affection to the man. Her abductor. The only contact she had made with him was a hug, and that was in her time of need. Even then, he immediately left for some reason unknown to Agnes.

"Oh my gosh, look at this." Harley said, taking out an item.

That item was a chardonnay colored gown, but this was at thigh length. The area around the stomach was sheer, and whatever was solid silk had a vine design that was the same color.

"Its…kind of short." Agnes said in hidden distaste.

"I know! You have a great figure to fill this out, and I know Crane wants to see some leg. You will look so sexy in this!" Harley squealed, pushing the silk into Agnes's arms.

"Harley, Agnes, hurry up!" they heard Poison Ivy yell from the dressing rooms.

"Alright!" Harley yelled back.

"Okay, anything this colored, I'm piling it up. Then I'll find what is acceptable, and then you can pick out things from that." Harley said, gripping laces and silks, and piling them on the floor.

Eventually, she was digging into the pile, which had grown substantially. Different shades of the same basic color littered the floor in a circle, and soon enough, the pile had shrunk by classification from what was okay to Harley.

"Alright, pick what you want, we have to go soon. When Red says its time to go, then its time to go! I'll go get some bags, when I come back, be ready to get out the door." Harley said, running off.

Agnes quickly went through the clothes, picking some and leaving some, until she had what she needed, in addition to a black silk robe. Harley sprinted back with two large bags and threw one at Agnes. Harley almost immediately had all of her clothes in the bag, while it took a few more seconds for Agnes to do so.

"Red, start the van, we're coming!" Harley called.

She ran to the register and took her gun to it. She slammed the gun's handle onto the register, and it opened, revealing cash. Harley greedily took all of it and stuffed it into her bag, and then ran back towards Agnes, grabbed her arm, and dragged her outside and into the van.

"Are you scarred yet?" Red asked Agnes, pulling out of the lot and getting back on the road.

"Almost…" Agnes said quietly.

"Harley, Agnes and I will never go back there again. Ever." Red said, focusing on a turn.

"Why not?" she whined.

"Because it is disturbing on so many levels." Poison Ivy said. It was as if she took the words right out of Agnes's mouth.

"Whateva." she said, rolling her eyes.

"So I guess there is one stop left, and then I go back…to him." Agnes said, a bit shakily.

"Yes, yes. And what is really cool is that that one stop is just a mile down! But…then that means we don't have much more time to hang out." Harley said, pouting.

"Yeah, well, Crane is understanding on some level. I know he is going to ask us to take her on another outing sometime, he knows girls need to talk. He probably doesn't want her around when he's experimenting with his toxin, either." Poison Ivy said, making a turn into an almost abandoned strip mall that consisted of only two stores; a bar and a pharmacy.

"You can get everything else here. Harley, you go in with her…take all the cash." Poison Ivy said, parking.

"You don't have to remind me." Harley said, grinning.

Agnes stepped out of the van and followed Harley into the store. She heard loud gun shots, breaking glass, and screaming. Agnes stepped inside and looked around. Harley had killed two people, and tied up and gagged three.

"Alright, I'm going to put these guys in the back for Mr. J, I trust ya to get what you need and come back. Don't run off, or else." she threatened.

"I-I won't." Agnes stammered, going behind an aisle so she wouldn't meet the hostages' begging eyes.

"Alright, come on!" Harley yelled to the bound people.

Agnes didn't waste time finding what she needed. Deodorant, tampons, pain killers, bandages, toothpaste, mouthwash, tooth brush, and much more. It was as if she was getting ready for camping, except it was much worse.

Harley came back in and ran towards the front desk. She grabbed a bag and threw it to Agnes, who caught it, and placed everything inside. Harley then continued to take all of the money from the register, and look into the murder victims' wallets. Once she found all the cash, she grabbed Agnes's arm and pulled her outside and back to the van.

Once Agnes got in, she heard the muffled sobs, whimpers, and fearful hyperventilating of the hostages from the back of the van. She wished it had a trunk so she wouldn't be in the same area as the.

She didn't want to sound rude, but it just made her uncomfortable to hear their distress. She knew that if Harley took them to her precious 'Mr. J' then they wouldn't have a chance. They were doomed, sentenced to death, and they might no have even knew it.

"Alright Agnes, its time to face the music." Poison Ivy said quietly, driving her back to Scarecrow's place.

Agnes didn't say anything. She merely stared out the window, watching the buildings and civilians go by. She hadn't seen something like this for a while. She never expected to be on good terms with the Harlequin and Poison Ivy and go on a 'shopping' spree with them. She never thought she could become the object of Scarecrow's affection. Things had spiraled out of control, and now she had to take it. She wouldn't be able to recover from shock before something else was thrown at her.

"So…what's it like living with Riddler?" Harley asked, trying to break the silence.

"I haven't talked to him. I've seen him once before meeting you two, but I've never really talked to him."

"Well, if you ever really talk to him, here is a warning; he's a smug bastard. At first he might try a little bit of flirting, but if he knows that you don't like him, he'll act like an ass. But since Crane has probably made it clear for him to not try anything, he'll probably just try and…I don't know, it doesn't seem right for me to say he'll try and befriend you, but that's probably what he'll do anyway. If he throws a riddle at you, don't answer if you don't know. If you don't know, walk away. If you answer one wrong, he'll probably hate you. You don't want that" Poison Ivy explained.

"Thanks for warning me, but I don't think Crane is going to let me go anywhere in the house other than his room and the bathroom." Agnes said wearily.

"He's probably hoping you'll fall victim to Stockholm syndrome." Harley joked.

"We'll see, Harley. Oh…" Agnes said, wincing at the sight of her abductor's temporary residence.

"Now listen, if you need to have some girl talk, you can always count on us! We have to go, though. I can't let these presents go to waste! Puddin' will be so proud of me." Harley cooed.

"Okay. Um, thanks for this…all of this. It's a relief. I better go now." Agnes said, grabbing her bags and exiting the vehicle.

She smiled when she felt the crisp, cool November air against her skin. She was about to make her escape when she realized the van was still there. She turned around and saw Poison Ivy staring at her through the rearview mirror of said van. So now her escape was definitely out of the question. She looked at the ground, the heavy weight of disappointment and dread in her chest. And she had to drag herself, with that weight, to the door of the house and knock.

It was quiet, and nobody answered. She was beginning to get hopeful, and started thinking that Scarecrow had packed and left, and she was free. But the hopes came crashing down when Crane jerked the door open, can of fear toxin aimed.

"Whoa!" she exclaimed, backing up.

Crane looked Agnes up and down, then looked behind her to the van. Poison Ivy must have nodded, waved, or something, because Crane calmed down. He wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her inside.

"How was your day out?" he asked, as if he was genuinely interested.

"It was fine." she answered vaguely.

"Okay, I'm going to show you to your bathroom." he said, taking her upstairs.

She recognized the door to their room, even though they weren't going through it. He guided her past the door and towards another. He opened it and let her through.

It was a bathroom.

Even more shocking; it was a clean bathroom.

She couldn't see any stains, hair, toothpaste marks, anything. It was a pristine white bathroom with a tiny window above the bath. Of course, the window was barred. There were all of the necessities plus luxuries; toilet, vanity, sink, shower/bath combo, hamper, and a cabinet.

"This bathroom is yours. I won't use it, Riddler won't use it. There is a clear path from here to the bedroom, so there is no excuse for you to be anywhere else. You can go whenever for anything, but for now you are only allowed in your bathroom and our bedroom."

"Very restricting…but I guess I owe you that much."

Something she said must have snapped something in Crane, because he rushed her, his hand around her throat. He shoved her against the wall and bent down low enough so his breath was hot against her ear.

"You owe me much more than that…be grateful Jonny is so fixated with you, because if he wasn't, you would be in the basement with fear toxin pumping through your system. If I had my way then you would be on the floor underneath me." he growled.

"S-Scarecrow…" she choked.

"Yes?"

"Stop it…stop!" she screamed, her legs kicking wildly.

"Why should I? Maybe I should just keep holding your pretty little neck like this until you pass out."

So he could tell. Her vision was getting cloudy, it was getting harder for her to breathe, and the only thing she could see was him. Her kicking and thrashing was slowing down from lack of oxygen, and she began feeling light-headed. Then something happened.

She heard distant yelling, but it must have been close since every sound seemed distant. The pressure on her neck lifted, and the wind rushed back into her lungs. Her vision was immediately coming back. She saw Crane being flung on the floor, and then a color took up most of her sight. Green.

Riddler.

She felt his hand snake around her forearm, and the she was lifted to her feet. Agnes didn't focus much on her savior, more so on breathing and getting the feeling back in her limbs.

"I wish we could've met on better circumstances, but it's a meeting nonetheless. I believe you know me as the Riddler, yes?" he insinuated.

"Yeah…" she said in between deep breaths.

"Well, I'll take you back to your room. When he wakes up he should be back to normal. Come with me." he said.

While walking, he did something that came to Agnes as relief. He didn't drag her, didn't hold her arm as if she might run, he didn't touch her in any way. He simply walked beside her. This caused Agnes to ponder over what Poison Ivy had said about him trying to befriend you.

They had reached Crane and her room, and he opened the door for her. She stepped inside and dropped her bags in the corner. She looked around, remembering all of the events that had happened in just days, not even a week.

"Alright, you get comfy. What would you like for dinner? I'm asking because Crane will be out cold for a while so I thought you should get a treat on me." he said.

She had no idea how, but his words were laced with arrogance.

"I'm okay with anything to eat, but can I get something with alcohol in it for a drink?" Agnes asked.

"Of course." Riddler said, smirking…smugly.

He left without another word, closed the door behind him, and locked it. She sighed and fell back onto the bed, and proceeded to take off her shoes. She glanced at the bag once, then again, and then stared. Making up her mind, she took the bag of clothes and dumped it's contents onto the bed, and then started to try them all on.


	12. Chapter 12

(I do not own anything Batman. Sorry it took so long for me to update, I was on a road trip. Me, my buddies, and an ice box full of BROOSKIES!…No, I was with extended family. K)

When Jonathan awoke, he had to sit quietly against the wall. He just didn't remember much, but he was allowing memories to slowly come back to him.

He was currently positioned on the floor, back against the wall. The tile was a cold vengeance on his throbbing head. He looked up at the lights, steadying his breathing patterns. His hair fell over his eyes in a manner that made him come off as a bit loony.

Finally, minutes after waking up, the memories of what had happened flooded back to him. How Scarecrow had taken over, how scared she was, how she had fought…and how somebody knocked him out. The question that snapped at him was; who?

He jumped up, rage flaring through him. Had the Batman come? Did he take her away from him? No…then he wouldn't be here, he would be in Arkham. But where was she? Where was Riddler? Did Riddler take her? Oh, he would be sure to pay.

The bathroom door swung open, and Jonathan marched out. His eyes were that of a hawk, taking in every detail of the house. He had to find out where Agnes was, that much was clear to him. She wasn't allowed to leave him.

"Agnes!" he shouted, rapidly descending the stairs.

Upon reaching the bottom floor, a very nice smell met him. It only made him realize how hungry he was. He followed the smell, suspiciously, to the kitchen. There was the arrogant man dressed with green spandex, sitting in front of a take out box. He smiled at Crane.

"Good morning…even though it is technically night." he smirked.

"What happened? Where is Agnes? I swear, if you touched her, then I will-"

"Calm down, Crane. She's in the bedroom you've locked her up in. I was just walking around when I saw you strangling her. So, being the gentlemen I am, I helped her out of the situation and led her back to her room. She may even be done eating now…" he trailed off, his eyes darting to a wall clock.

"…She's MY responsibility. Don't interfere." Crane hissed, going back upstairs.

"I'm sorry, but when I see a beautiful lady in distress, I just have to." Riddler called out to him.

Crane stopped at the middle of the staircase. He debated whether or not to go back downstairs and gas Riddler, but decided against. Though the comment towards his woman offended him, he let it slide. It was a fact to him. Jonathan thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

He continued up the stairs. He looked down the hall and saw the open door of the bathroom. Something dropped in his stomach at the sight. He wouldn't be able to stop thinking about what he did for a very long time. He had to make amends with her.

When he came to a stop in front of the door to their bedroom, he stopped. He could hear ruffling noises, the sounds of clothes. He narrowed his eyes in utter confusion, but then they widened in realization. A smile briefly stretched across his face when he pictured her shedding her clothes.

As he began to wonder what clothes she got, he twisted the knob to open, and pushed the wood forward. It swung away, revealing Agnes, who was currently buttoning up her shirt, She looked up, and turned around.

She was visibly shaking.

"Hello, Agnes. Did you miss me while I was out?" he asked venomously.

There was a shred of doubt in his mind that Agnes was faithful to him. He began to suspect that maybe, just maybe, Riddler was trying to get to her…and was succeeding. He could not let that happen, he could not lose her to him.

"Put your things in the bathroom. I'll be watching." he said, lifting a bag that he was certain had no clothes in it.

She finished buttoning her shirt silently, and walked past him. When she was in the hallway, she grabbed the bag and walked slowly to the bathroom. Twice she looked back to make sure he didn't follow her. He met her stare each time.

She went into the bathroom, and felt like tearing up. She brushed her fingers delicately across her neck, closing her eyes. When she turned to look out the threshold, she saw Jonathan looking at her expectantly. She shook her head at him, glaring. He glared right back. She closed the door and put everything away in areas she deemed fit.

When done, she locked the door and fiddled with the faucets of the bathtub. She didn't know which one meant hot and cold, so it took a while to get it to a very comfortable temperature. Oh, how she longed for a hot bath. A chance to cleanse her hair and body, a chance to brush her teeth and mouthwash, a chance to be clean

She began to undress again, when she realized that her bag of clothes was still in the bedroom. She looked up at the ceiling and sighed exasperatedly. She then proceeded to dress again. After finally buttoning her top shirt, she left the bathroom again.

Crane was still by the door of the bedroom, staring at her intently. She crossed her arms and walked past him to retrieve her bag. She dug through it and picked out the robe and the long gown with the high slit that stopped at the thigh. She folded up the chardonnay colored piece and wrapped the black robe around it, so Crane couldn't see it.

When walking back to the bathroom, she turned to look at him again. He was still glaring at her, still in the same position. She stopped walking and clutched her clothes tightly.

"What the hell are you staring at?" she asked.

"…Just go take your bath, and go back to the bedroom right after you're done." he said coldly.

He spun on his heel and disappeared down the stairs. She sneered after him, and retreated to the bathroom for a much needed bath.

Crane went back to the kitchen to take what was left of the take-out. The tension that came over the room when he entered was sudden, and a great impact. He didn't talk to Edward, but just ate the food. He would occasionally glare at him, but went back to his meal.

"So…how was the meeting between you two? I didn't hear any screaming or yelling. What happened?" Riddler asked, swallowing his food.

Crane kept quiet for about a minute. He stared at Edward accusingly as he put his fork down. Scarecrow was trying to take control, but Crane knew he had to keep a level head. Maybe there was nothing between them, but only time could tell…or a system full of fear toxin.

Then he spoke.

"What happened while I was unconscious?" he asked, his voice just as unnerving as his stare, but that didn't seem to affect Riddler.

"Well, I helped her up, guided her to your room, asked her what she wanted, ordered it, and I gave her the dish and drink then left to eat mine." he said.

"What did she want?"

"She said she didn't care what she had to eat, just as long as she had some alcoholic drink. A bit paranoid, Scarecrow?" he asked, amused by the bombarding questions.

"Just a bit. It seems to me that you have been getting very…kind towards Agnes. If I see any act of 'heroism' on your part, I'll kick you out. Don't try to be her savior, Riddler. I'm her everything, I'm the only man in her life, and she's mine." Jonathan said, a bit of edge in his voice.

"Funny thing, because she certainly doesn't seem to fond of you." Riddler pointed out.

"Because she doesn't know any better…not yet, at least." he sighed, finishing up his meal. He threw the trash away and put his head in his hands.

"…You're obsessed with her, aren't you?" Riddler asked, smirking.

"No. I just…No!" Crane snapped.

"Oooh…Well, it doesn't seem that way from my point of view. You lock her up, don't let any other guy interact with her, forced her to get risqué night clothes, and…well, you talk about her all the time. You think she belongs to you…but, from what I can see, she hates you." Riddler explained, his smirk growing to be an arrogant smile.

Crane's eye twitched, and he couldn't restrain Scarecrow any longer. Scarecrow took over and slammed his fists on the table. Almost everything on it was knocked down, and some things even fell to the floor. Riddler was lucky to have the Styrofoam container that held his food on his lap.

Scarecrow ran his fingers through his hair, which was now a bit damp with perspiration. His anger subsided for only moments. He then lifted the chair he had been sitting on previously and threw it against the wall. Riddler lifted an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic violence. Scarecrow, having released some of his anger, let Jonathan take control.

" I don't know why, though…I haven't done anything bad. I haven't used the fear toxin on her, I let her have the day out with other girls, I gave her her own bathroom, I-"

"Hold on, let me stop you right there. You also tried to strangle her, you've hit her; I can see the bruises, you kidnapped her, you've locked her up, you've taken everything from her. And you wonder why she's not head over heels for you. There is a reason she is more tolerant of me than of you. Its because I haven't pressured her into anything." Riddler said, smugness in his voice.

Crane could tell that Riddler enjoyed the fact that he was more liked by Agnes. Crane, on the other hand, was not amused.

"Why? What do you do to make her like you- no, tolerate you?" he asked, refusing to let his pride slip away from him. It was awfully hard after asking the Riddler for advice on women.

"You figure it out. I don't like the way you've been speaking to me, so why should I give you the answers? You know what, sense I'm feeling especially generous, I'll let you in on something. Treat her like a lady. That's all." Riddler said, waving his hand.

Jonathan was a little less than infuriated with his words. He had been trying to treat her like a lady, but she had insisted on acting out of place. To him, the way he treated her was her fault. He was about to go into a rant about how that was not possible when he heard the bathroom door open.

Riddler looked up at the staircase, which was visible from the kitchen, and smiled an unsurprisingly arrogant smile. Jonathan turned to Riddler.

"I'll start treating her like a lady when she starts acting like one." he growled, leaving the kitchen.

He went upstairs and smiled as the familiar smell of mint met him. He sighed, looking forward to seeing his Agnes in her new night clothes. He opened the door and locked it behind him. When he turned around, he was disappointed to see Agnes wrapped in a robe, under the blankets.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Clean." she said simply, meeting his gaze with hostility.

"I'm…apologizing about earlier. Scarecrow can get rough with others."

"Rough?" she spat. "Rough doesn't begin to describe it. I was passing out from lack of oxygen. A bruise will be there soon, I know it. And what was with the glaring when I was going to the bathroom? Why the hell should you be angry with me?"

"I had some things on my mind." he said vaguely.

"…Never mind. Its not like I would ever be able to stop it from happening again. Lets just forget about it." she mumbled in defeat.

Jonathan smirked and walked over to his side of the bed. He sat down and proceeded to take his suit off, piece by piece. Blazer, vest, tie, button up. From the waist up, he was now only clothed in an undershirt. He then took off his shoes, socks, and belt.

"Are you taking off your pants?

"Do you want me to?"

"You're infuriating!" she hissed.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Don't take your pants off."

"I don't think you should be telling me what to do. I know you're smarter than this."

"What do you want from me, Crane?"

"For starters, I would like to see what you have on under that robe." he said with barely any trace of emotion.

"…Why would I show you what I'm wearing under my robe?"

"Because if you don't, I take off my pants."

Agnes glared at him and looked back down at her fingers. She didn't know what to do. If she took off her robe, he would see a lot of leg, and some cleavage. She was pretty sure he had never seen much of her chest. On the other hand, though, nothing that bad could come from him sleeping in only underwear, right?

"Fine. Take off your pants." she muttered, crossing her arms.

"That sounds…provocative. Very much so." Jonathan said, raising his eyebrows at her.

"It isn't! Just- just off with the pants, and leave me alone." she demanded.

He quietly obliged…partly. His hands flew to the zipper and button, undoing them. Soon enough, his pants dropped to the floor, along with his other clothes.

But he didn't leave her alone.

He climbed onto the bed and pulled the sheets and blankets away from her, until she was uncovered by said sheets and blankets. Agnes's hands flew up to the sides of the robes. She quickly wrapped herself with it.

"What the hell?"

He didn't answer but grabbed onto the robe. He tried to force it off, but she was desperately trying to hide herself. Through quite the struggle, he managed to get it off and throw it on the floor. Before he could see her though, she bent down to the end of the bed and pulled up the covers.

"Y-You gave me a choice! Don't!" she said, shocked and angry, but slightly worried.

"I can make you do whatever I want you to do, Agnes. You're mine. You belong to me. If I want to see what you're wearing underneath your robe, then I'll see. Now, if you had just let me see in the first place, we wouldn't have to resort in such quarreling. Now let me see." he said.

Agnes's grip on the sheets loosened when she finally realized what he said. The meaning sunk through her, and she immediately felt nauseated. She gradually, subconsciously, pushed the sheets down. She didn't even see Jonathan scan her with a stare filled with possessiveness. She didn't feel him lean into her and plant small kisses along her jaw line. Her thoughts turned from confusion and realization to anger, and more realization. She raised her hand quickly and slapped him.

"I don't belong to anyone." she said with as much malice as she could muster.

Jonathan hadn't moved from his spot, but stopped kissing. His cheek tingled and burned. He didn't know whether to feel angry, hurt, or sad. The only emotion that seemed to strike him was…indifference. Scarecrow was angry, sure. He was pissed. But Jonathan was now tired.

He didn't want to deal with this, not tonight. He just wanted to see his Agnes in her night wear. It looked nice on her, he had speculated.

"…"You've seen my gown, you don't have pants on. Let's call it a night. Right now." Agnes said sternly, turning her back to him. She sunk into the covers and rested her head on the pillows without sparing him another glance.

Jonathan agreed with her non-verbally. He went under the covers and plopped his head onto his pillow. He sighed, disappointed in Agnes's behavior. He wrapped his arms around her waist and breathed in the scent of mint. It soothed him into sleep.

Another night with no nightmares, thanks to the woman sleeping next to him.


	13. Chapter 13

(I do not own anything Batman. Sorry it took so long for the wait, I just got a Facebook account, and I think I've become addicted….I'm so ashamed of it. And in the span of writing this, I was banned from Facebook…what a rollercoaster.)

Agnes woke up with a start. She sat upright hastily and looked around. Jonathan was not in the room, fortunately, but tears still streamed down her face. It wasn't real. Her dream of freedom from the monster wasn't real.

She had dreamed that Batman and Beatrice had saved her. Beatrice was fine, better than ever, and had dozens of designs just waiting to be manufactured. Batman had taken Jonathan and Riddler away. She left all of the things she 'bought' behind and went back to BCF, where Margaret was taken away, also. Her office was in perfect condition and everyone was doing their work perfectly. Everything had gone back to normal…

But it wasn't real.

At this moment she had to look around. No, she wasn't looking for any sort of escape. She knew there was none, she had been looking every day. She started to look at the situation she was in through all different angles.

On one side, she didn't have all the pressure of a day in her normal life. Nobody complained to her. She didn't have to do any work, food was brought to her, and this person she was with loved her.

On the other side, she couldn't go outside, she was taken away from her work, her company would probably crumble, and this man that loved her was obsessive and manipulated every aspect of her life. She was dreading the day he wanted to have sex with her, and she knew it would most likely happen. He hurt her on a daily basis, she was in constant fear of him. She was ripped away form her life.

How did she get into this mess? All she did was ask him to evaluate her assistant. Then there was so much fear, so much death…she couldn't describe it all in her head. All she knew was that she was here, with him, and it would never be for her will.

The tears stopped rolling.

The despair stopped coming at her.

Now she felt empty. She accepted what was happening. She didn't want to embrace it; but she accepted it. She was most likely going to be stuck here until she died, or until he did. She wasn't going to try and kill him. If she failed, he'd hurt her.

A knock at the door. It opened, revealing HIM.

He was dressed in the usual suit. This time it was black and gold themed. She raised an eyebrow. Usually it was brown and red. On a good day it was black and blue. Black and gold?

"You're awake. I'm having Edward bring up your breakfast, I have to run some errands." he said.

"Where are you going?" she inquired in a deep, hollow voice.

He paused to mentally examine her voice. Was there any hint of discontent or threat? He found none. He didn't even find a reason not to answer. He leaned against the doorframe and stared at her face, figure, and back at her face. It was messy with tears.

"I'm meeting with a friend. He might come back with me, he might not." he answered generically.

"A very…nice suit you're wearing."

"It's a meeting. I'll be gone for a long time, I want to look nice. Take a shower, get dressed. Relax in the living room. It'll be raining today. Do you like the rain?" he asked.

His tone with the question seemed to throw her off. It was as if he was asking a mentally unstable child. How she came up with that analogy, she had no clue. It almost seemed to make him look even more deranged, but in the stable-looking way.

She decided to answer his question.

"I guess. The sunlight makes me emotionally drained, unless it's cold outside." she answered truthfully.

"Interesting…" he sighed, looking at the door.

"It's strange. For those reasons, I like to stay in my office, where its mostly covered with smog and fog. I can rarely tell the difference between sunlight and a cloudy day." she informed, trying to make him not look so…bored.

She was starting to get scared that he was growing tired of her. What would happen to her, then? Would he kill her? Use her as an experiment?

"Well, this isn't a skyscraper, high-rise, or anything of the sort. Sorry to disappoint." he said a bit sarcastically.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." he snapped hastily.

Agnes had to think fast. What was something that would lighten his temper? She mulled it over for a couple of seconds, and finally found a solution. Albeit she was reluctant, but it had to be worth something.

She removed herself from the comfortable, warm spot on the bed and let her robe trail after her. From the bed, onto the floor. She took slow, gentle, graceful, and almost seductive steps towards him. He tensed and almost sneered. She made her way in front of him. She looked up to him; he was tall. Her hands rested n his chest.

"What are you doing?" he asked, a twinge of satisfaction in his voice, but also some suspicion.

"I just want you to be less…stressed." she said, sickened at how much he enjoyed this, even though it wasn't much.

Her hands went up his chest to rest on his shoulders. She leaned in a bit closer and buried her nose in his chest. She, surprisingly to her, didn't gag. In fact, she could picture herself doing that to a man she felt immediate affections for.

ANY affections for.

"We can pick up on this again after my run. Remember to stay inside, or else. Riddler will be here all day." he warned, shrugging her off of him.

"I know." Agnes replied coldly.

He pursed his lips and kept his hands on her shoulders for a good, long minute before shoving her onto the bed. She expected him to crawl up to her, but he merely left. She got up in time to see the back of his black blazer disappear behind the door.

She stayed in her position for quite some time, listening to his movement downstairs. She waited…and waited…until she heard a vehicle turn on. It's tires crunched on the gravel and rode away, as far as she could hear.

He was gone.

Now what?


	14. Chapter 14

She had spent most of the day just sitting on the bed, staring out at the raining sky. Other than a shower and changing clothes, she hadn't moved all day. He still wasn't back. Judging from Nigma giving her lunch just an hour ago, it was not late enough to miss him.

But why did she miss him?

Was it because he supplied interaction, communication? It surely wasn't boring when he was here. It was like…when she was a teenager, living with her dad, she would stare at her cell phone, waiting for a message. She didn't care who it was from, though preferred it was from Saul. He never texted her, no one did. She had to initiate conversation- oh the nightmares!

Saul Krishtov was a senior when she was a junior. He was a Russian exchange student, and a very attractive one at that. He was also her neighbor, despite the fact that she lived in a sky-rise at the time with her father. His trip was sponsored by the business corporation which was the closest building to hers, so they gave him a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, all the luxuries on their top floor. Apparently he was a genius who was going to represent the business. She never quite understood that logic, but she went with it.

He had an attractive flip of feathery brown hair, which could scream 'adorable.' His body was remarkable. Lean, but kind of built, which was how she liked it. His skin was like the finest marble a Greek God was carved into. And he always dressed properly- a button up and tie, but that was spring. His winter dress was usually a turtle neck and blazer. It was a kind of elegance her school wasn't use to, except around her. He made girls swoon, and she made them envious when Saul publicly exchanged numbers with her. Oh- and his eyes! A soft blue, like the morning sky, when it wasn't polluted. They were like Jonathan's- WHOAH. She shook her head, trying to rid the comparison of Saul and Jonathan.

Then it dawned on her.

"Oh my God." she breathed, comically horrified, "I lost my v-card to a boy who looked like Crane!" she silently shrieked. "But how is that important?" she began to ponder.

Had she really begun to talk to herself? She read books where people talked to themselves, and they weren't crazy. Beatrice used to talk to herself when she was working on designs. So, technically, just because you talk to yourself doesn't mean you're crazy, right? Did that make sense?

"I'm in a house full of crazy people…two crazy people. Talking to myself won't be a problem…it's justifiable. I have been in here for what- a month?" Wait…it was about November when she went shopping with Harlequinn and Poison Ivy. It must be about mid October, Halloween was drawing near.

Was Crane planning anything for then? Going out terrorizing civilians? It wouldn't be unlike him in the time she had known him. And she couldn't just ask him…well, she could. That would involve some…charm. She shuddered. Well…maybe he discussed things with Nigma. Yes, he would have to be in on it since they were living together. Then again, she slept in the same bed as him, and she was sitting here wondering about it. There was only one way to find out. She became mobile again and exited the bedroom to go downstairs. From what she heard of conversations, she pinpointed their locations to always be downstairs, which would be so much easier than going into his room.

The steps were producing discordant clamor. Oh, joy.

"Why do I care if he hears me? Why do I care about Crane's business? Because of curiosity, you twit." she whispered to herself. She was already half-way down the stairs when she heard him.

"Talking to yourself isn't healthy. People might start to think you're crazy!" the Riddler chuckled.

"People. Yeah. People as in…you and someone who has kidnapped me. God forbid you two think I'm crazy. Two criminally insane people, thinking that I'm crazy." she said slowly.

Riddler, apparently, didn't like being referred to as crazy. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. A ghost of a sneer lingered on his face as he looked down at her from the upper floor. There was a tense staring contest between the two. Agnes was unnerved by his lack of blinking. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"You blinked. I win."

"You sure did." she said, as if he was a violent, crazy, currently serene person who could snap at any moment. In her mind he was. He didn't seem to take notice, for he was too busy soaking up the little amount of triumph from winning a staring contest.

"Anyways, how may I be of service?" he asked.

"Uhh…it's about Crane."

"Oh?" he began to grin. "Do tell."

"Well, how about we sit down somewhere, instead of us talking from such a distance? In the living room, maybe?" she suggested. Riddler snorted.

"Hardly a living room. Hardly a house, even. Though, I guess calling it a living room would comfort you. One who is not used to this life has to keep hold of normalcy."

"…Did you just insult me?"

"Oh, I wouldn't call it insulting, per-se…its just the facts. You're weak in this style of living. Just like all civilians."

"…Nice. Maybe in my stay here I won't be so weak. Now- downstairs?"

"I was just on my way down." he agreed, strutting down the staircase. His cane, always keeping a step ahead.

"Do you necessarily need a cane? Leg problems?"

"You ask too many questions. You know, I can't help but wonder why Crane picked you out for a relationship. Nobody who knows can. Maybe for your money and looks, that is understandable. But…never mind." he said.

"Go on. I'm the only one here. I won't tell anybody." she pressed. This gave Nigma a devilish smirk; his plan was working.

"Very well," he began, leading her into the living room. "Please, have a seat." he said, whilst taking his own. She did so, and stared at him with expectation. "But…?"

"Oh, yes! Hmm…if you can get this riddle right, I'll tell you." he said. Agnes groaned in response. "Don't worry, I know that you aren't near up to my level, I mean, you are a civilian. Batman answers my normal riddles, which coincides with the fact that he is still not as smart as I am. This will be easy. What has four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three at night?"

"Are you kidding me? A human." Agnes said, relief evident in her facial expression.

"Correct! Now, as I was saying, leaving off at 'but…'. But, the infamous Scarecrow, the Master of Fear!…to be attracted to a person? What a hilarious presumption! Then you came along. Things are kind of shaken up. When Fear Night was about, all of us had escaped from Arkham. I knew to go to Scarecrow, considering he has the longest average of being out of that hell-hole. About 3 months. When I found out you were here, I was just…I couldn't fathom it! A month and a half in, and he still hasn't gassed you! Remarkable. You should comprehend how lucky you are."

"I might be here for another month and a half? Oh dear God…Lucky? Lucky? How the hell am I lucky?"

"Because he hasn't injected or gassed you. He really is fixated with you. He wants you to be content, but he's apprehensive about granting you so much freedom that you would be able to run away."

"I'd be happy if I could run away."

"Well we all know that, little Miss Obvious."

"Who is 'all'?"

"Harley, Ivy, me, Scarecrow, and probably Joker, considering Harley is already back with him."

"Who is the Joker?"

"Someone you don't want to be acquainted with. He's the worst of us, second being Scarecrow…again. He's mad. You labeled me and Crane as crazy. Scarecrow might be a tweak of crazy, whereas I'm brilliance, a mastermind, but Joker is insane. If you had anybody to have trepidation towards, its Joker."

"I'll take note of that."

"So. What is it you wished to discuss about Crane?" he asked, crossing his legs and folding his hands sophisticatedly in his lap.

"Is he, um, planning anything?…for Halloween?"

"First off, let me applaud you for maintaining a sense of time. Secondly, I can't be too sure. He has been spending more and more time in his laboratory, and has retrieved some subjects- on account of me- so that presents an inkling. It's probable."

"Probable…huh…"

"Why do you ask?"

"No reason, at least not specifically. Curiosity."

"Curiosity is a dangerous thing for someone in your position. Now, if you'll pardon me, I'm due back at my room. My work is never finished." he said, a hint of boasting laced into his words.

Agnes watched him go up the stairs without another word. Her excitement was welling up inside. He had just done something Scarecrow would never allow her to do- be alone downstairs. Downstairs- where the exit was, and where unbarred windows were. She didn't care if it was raining, she was going to get out of here. Right when she heard Riddler's door close, she began her escape.

She made a dash towards the door, and, of course, it was locked. Why in God's name was it locked? So Scarecrow just locked the door behind him, that was understandable, but while Riddler was here? He must have had a key. So he predicted at some point she was going to sneak down there and try to escape. Fabulous. What else had he known about?

The windows.

She bolted to one of them, examining it. It was locked. How the hell you could lock a window, she didn't know, but that clever bastard somehow managed it. She let out a frustrated, desperate sigh. She spun around and looked around the room frantically for a means of breaking the window. Her eyes landed on a light-weight looking wooden chair. She grabbed it, and her assumptions of the seat's weight was correct. She made her way over to the window and threw the piece of furniture with all of her might at the glass. It didn't break. Not even shattered. But, a leg broke off of the chair. She took the leg and began to hit the window repeatedly with it, but no dice. Tears started to appear in her eyes. Her hands began to hurt, blisters could've been forming. She shook them, dropping the chair leg. She glanced back at the chair and leg. She set the chair back to where it was before and stuck the leg underneath to make it look like it was never touched.

She flopped down on the couch and held her head in her hands. The tears began to fall freely. Her breath was becoming more and more ragged, and she was eventually hyperventilating. She was moving back and forth, concentrating on the fact that she was trapped. Her hope had evaded her.

And then, epiphany struck. The laboratory.

Of course, he had to leave something of use to her in there. Nigma did say he was spending more time in there. But, question was…where was it? She looked around the room, and her eyes landed on a door. She cautiously went over to it and tried to turn the knob. The door swung open, revealing a storage closet. She sighed and looked for any other doors in the immediate area and saw two. The first one exposed a half bathroom. She growled and opened the second one. Well, tried to.

Locked. Oh, yes. This was the laboratory. She kept twisting the knob, hoping the lock would break, but it was futile. She set her head against the door and closed her eyes, going through thoughts a mile-a-minute. The inspiration had found her, and she acted on it. She removed the leg out from under the chair and struck the doorknob as hard as possible, despite her still hurting hands. She heard the door knob make an odd noise and tried to open the door. Since it didn't open, she socked it again.

The doorknob fell off, and the door swung in a bit. She threw the leg to the ground and pushed the door all the way open. Inside it was dark. The steps that led downward had vanished into darkness towards the end. She steadied her breathing and cautiously made her way down. At this point, she really wished she had a flashlight. The steps made an eerie sort of noise, an eldritch creak. She prayed that there weren't any rats, spiders, or cockroaches scurrying around her feet. Or millipedes. God forbid millipedes.

Eventually she had reached the bottom. There was a light coming down a hall that led right. She turned, and an entry, where the soft glow was coming from, required to take a left. She did so, and found herself in the laboratory. The soft glow was coming from an incubator, which held flowers. Beautiful purple flowers. What on Earth was he doing with flowers? She shook her head and observed her surroundings. Not finding any other light source, she decided to stay near the flowers. She was walking towards it when suddenly, her face hit something. She shrieked and backed up. From the light's soft glow, she saw it was nothing more than a chain. She pulled it, and not only did it illuminate a small light bulb, it lit up rows of lights, the ones you would see in classrooms or hospitals.

The room was similar to how it looked upstairs- faded, dated wallpaper covering the walls. Mysterious purplish, reddish, brownish stains adorned them. She trembled at the thought of what it could be. A desk was pushed against the wall, and she eyed it curiously. Papers were scattered on it, containing formulas, diagrams, and ingredients. She was severely tempted to rip them all up, but thought otherwise.

A muffled noise was coming from the room next door…no, it wasn't muffled. It was whimpering. And shallow breathing. She exited the Flower Room, as she liked to call it, and went down the hall to see another entrance to another dark room to the right.

This time, she wasn't sure if she wanted to have the light on to see what the room contained. She slowly and silently entered the room, laying the heel of her shoe down gently as to not make noise. Each step further in was another step into the dark. She hit another chain and held onto it, debating if she should pull it.

Another burst of curiosity. This was a mistake. For, as soon as she turned the light on, her hands went to her mouth and she gasped in horror. The light effect from the Flower Room was triggered in this room, too, and they illuminated the cell-like confinement. Inside were people. Not even that anymore- shells of humans who once had lives, but were now reduced to what looked like submission into paranoid terror. Blood stains, their matted hair, ripped clothes, injuries. She shook her head and tried desperately to turn off the light, but she couldn't find the chain.

She screamed, loudly. This induced incoherent muttering, groaning, and sobbing from the subjects. She tried to back up, but wherever she did, she hit the wall. It was as if the room was trying to prolong her terror. Another scream from her.

And then the loudest, but shortest one came when a pair of arms wrapped around her figure. She spun around wildly and came face-to-chest with Jonathan Crane. She backed up, out of his grip, and fell down. She scooted back, fearing him now more than ever.

He was shaking his head at her, his face expressionless. He took long strides towards her, but stopped just two feet away. He raised his hand and turned the lights off. She panicked and began to crawl towards where she barely saw the exit.

A hand slid over her shoulder blades, and that made her let out another shriek, and she lifted herself from crawling and made a mad dash past the Flower Room, and up the stairs. She closed the door behind her and immediately began to move a love seat. A burst of adrenaline from hearing him run up the stairs sent the piece of furniture. The footsteps stopped.

"Agnes…let me out." he said slowly.

"Oh dear God, no!" she sobbed, adrenaline still coursing through her.

"Let. Me. Out." he said, a bit more harsh this time. She shook her head, even though he wouldn't be able to see it. She cried some more.

"Agnes. Please let me out. I know you don't have the heart to do this, to leave me down here to die. I know you. Just let me out, I won't hurt you…" he said in a manipulating tone. It scared her even more, because, deep down, she knew he was right. He knew what words to use to have people do what he wanted them to do, and it made her cry harder.

"No! Y-You might not hurt me…Scarecrow will. Just like those people down there!"

Jonathan chuckled maliciously. "I wouldn't call them people anymore."

She backed up and put her hands over her ears to block his voice out. She ran up the stairs and to the room she and that monster shared. She didn't know why, maybe there was something useful in there, but she saw nothing. She exited and ran to a room she knew to be Riddler's. She knocked a couple of times, and he opened, looking a bit irritated.

"Yes?"

"You have a key to get out of here, don't you?" she exclaimed, still holding back sobs. Tears had messed up her make-up, and her hair was a mess. That must have explained his curios stare.

"…Yes, I do."

"Give me…the key…" she said slowly and deeply.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Terribly sor-" before he could finish his sentence, she kicked him in the crotch. He crumpled to the ground, no longer paying attention to her. She climbed over him and searched his room with only one thing in mind. That was, until she heard a loud crash downstairs.

"No…" she gasped.

"Agnes! Come out, darling!" Scarecrow shouted sarcastically as he raced upstairs. The fact that Riddler's door was hanging open and he was halfway out, and on the floor, gave him a clue. "You can't hide from me."

"STAY AWAY FROM ME YOU MONSTER!" she screamed.

"Now…" he began, climbing over the Riddler, "Is that any way to talk to ME?" he asked, raising his voice.

"P-Please…leave me alone…"

"What was that? You want me to leave you alone? All alone by yourself without any means of protection? Unbelievable. I'm not gone for just eight hours, and you suddenly make a mess of everything. Why? I didn't think I would have to tell you not to go down there. I thought you were smarter than that, Agnes." he said, crouching down beside her. She curled away from him.

He took this opportunity to turn her, then lift her up. She began to shake, and then try to wriggle out of his grasp. She was pleading with him to not take her down there, and he smirked. That's not what he was going to do, but her fear was very appreciated. He went to their room and threw her on the bed. She curled into the fetal position.

"I think you need to relax. Other than attempting to trap me in my own laboratory, and trying to escape, you haven't done anything wrong. Besides, I have no idea what this action leads to."

"Nothing…it leads to nothing…there was nothing down there, I didn't see anything." she muttered absent-mindedly.

He stared at her, considering that idea. He left the room without another word.


	15. Chapter 15

_**ATTENTION ALL OF MY DARLING FANS **_

_It is with my sincerest regrets of raising your hopes for another chapter, but this is not the case. Don't worry, I'm not ending the story, I'm just a lazy fuck. _

_But I'm not being lazy as I write this with the intent of getting all of you to sign a petition. You have most likely heard of the wipe-out the administrators are doing, deleting certain stories that include sex, violence, song basing, and many, many more. I'm sure you all have stories you love that include the following. You don't want them gone, do you?_

_**www . change petitions/fan fiction-net-stop-the-destruction-of-fanfiction-net**_

_Take out the spaces and follow it to where it takes you. Sign the petition. You don't have to include real addresses, or real anything, just sign. Have the stories on this glorious site depends on it._

_June 23. Remember, remember. That day, do NOT log on to this site, do not update, read, email, use forums, anything at all. Refrain action. _

_All of the stories that swim around in my head involve sex and violence. Woops. Sorry. But I am __NOT__ going to let them be deleted, even if nobody reds them, even if nobody likes them, even if they aren't accepted by certain standards. _

_Please sign. I will update soon._

_Lots of mutual respect,_

_Firespin_


	16. Chapter 16

(WARNING, BUCKED UP BATMAN TIMELINE AHEAD)

She hadn't spoke a word for days. At least, not in his presence. When he would run one of his errands, she would cry silently to herself, muttering words that even she couldn't interpret. Whenever she fell asleep, she could see them…malnourished, a complete mess. Tangled, matted hair that almost covered their whole face. She couldn't recognize what gender they were. There were strange substances scattered around their cells. He treated them like wild animals, and that's basically what they had become.

She hugged herself tightly. It was probably around midnight, he still wasn't back. She stared at the hem of her night gown. It was one of the shorter ones, and she hated it. It was silk; too hot to sleep in, and too revealing. It could slide up her leg too easily. She continued to wear the black robe to hide herself, even though she was well aware if he wanted to see her without it, his wish would be granted without a fight.

She began to cry again.

"Why…why c-can't…I just…want to leave…get me out of here…oh dear God…please get me out…" she choked out. "I want to leave…I want to leave…I want to…be gone…let me leave…"

She found herself in this position often- wondering what happened, why she was there, dwelling on what she could've done to prevent it, thinking about her company, Beatrice…her company. Without her, there was a large chance it would've crumbled by now. Without him…where would she go back to? She would have nothing. Freedom, yes, that was what she would have.

Beautiful freedom.

She cried harder, for a brief moment. That moment passed and she was done crying for the day. She climbed back into bed and wiped away the tears. She snuggled up in the soft sheets she had grown so used to. His scent was everywhere, it nauseated her, yet she couldn't help but like it in some sense. It smelled…comforting. She concluded it was because it must've been a cologne that many men she felt comfortable around before wore.

She couldn't have felt more disoriented.

She couldn't just sit here and sleep, not this time. She had slept about all day, and Riddler was probably asleep. She wanted to do something. Take a bath, maybe. Yes…a bath…with bubbles and nice smelling body washes…candles…scrubs…she had almost all of those things available in the bathroom, now only if she wasn't locked in again. She sighed and rummaged around one of the night stand's drawers. She had placed various bobby pins around for use, but she had found they didn't open windows, the back, and front door. This was how she had managed to go to the bathroom or get food whenever no one would let her out. Bobby pin in hand, she climbed out of bed

Jonathan climbed out of the van and slammed the door shut behind him. The wind blew harshly, rustling his hair and blazer, yet he paid no heed. Lately, he couldn't stop thinking about Agnes. He doubted his feelings for her now more than ever.

How could she do this?

Why wasn't Riddler more careful? That was it. That was the source of all of the problems! Riddler was turning her against him, whether he knew it or not. Because she was so reluctant to return Crane's feelings, she sided with Riddler. It all made sense. If he got rid of Riddler, she wouldn't have anyone to turn to but him. It was the only plan he had going now. He shook his head, pushing the thoughts away to think about later. His current focus was set on his upset client. A silly, worthless example of man. "Buyer beware. I told you my compound would take you places. I never said they'd be places you wanted to go." Scarecrow shrugged. The Chechen wasn't satisfied with those answers. It looked as though he was about to fall apart. "My business…repeat customers…" Scarecrow became irritated.

"If you don't like what I have to offer, you can buy from someone else…assuming Batman left anyone to buy from."~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Agnes sat in the bathtub, hair pinned up, eyes on her toes.

She had made a decision.

What was going against him doing for herself? He already knew that she didn't want to be there, he wouldn't let her go. He said it himself, he would never let her go. She had to face her devastating reality. She was trapped with him.

Was it as bad as she thought it was? She had no worries if she was on his good side. To get on his good side, return his affections. In the end, it would be in her favor. It would.

"Hurry up!" Riddler shouted kicking and hitting the door. Agnes jumped in surprise, nausea building up inside of her.

"Why?"

"Just hurry up! We're leaving!"

Agnes was speechless. Had she heard correctly? She pulled the plug on the tub and proceeded to dry herself hastily.

"Where are we going?!"

"I'm…I don't know…" he murmured, horrified at his words. He always knew where he could go in the event Batman was on his tail, but that was him, just Riddler. What was different? The woman? It couldn't be her, she was just another person. Meaningless.

Then he remembered. He remembered everything Crane had said about her, every time he overreacted over her, and most importantly, every time he told Riddler to stay away from her. He had to keep her safe for him. She was a responsibility now. He began to hyperventilate.

"I-I'm dressed, let's go." Agnes stumbled out of the bathroom, in her usual attire.

Riddler grabbed her wrist and pulled her past her room, down the stairs, and outside. He looked around wildly, making sure nothing suspicious was in the vicinity. He unlocked his van and tossed Agnes inside. He ran to his driver's seat and- before he could close his door, a large shadow flew over. Riddler's eyes widened in utter shock and panic. He quickly jammed the keys into the ignition and sped off, Agnes clutching onto the dashboard for dear life.

"What's going on?!" she cried out. She could barely hear her voice over the sound of tires screeching on road, and other car noises she couldn't describe.

"We're being chased. Scarecrow's been caught, he's been sent back to Arkham, and he's chasing us." Riddler muttered in a panicky tone.

"Who is chasing us? Crane?"

"Did I not just say he's been caught?!" he yelled, making a dangerous turn. Her head hit the window, leaving a crack in it. She clutched where she had hit it and felt warm liquid seep between her fingers. She decided to keep quiet.

Suddenly, it seemed as if a heavy load dropped on the back of the van. He cursed under his breath and began to make sharp turns left and right, causing her to slowly slip onto the floor for protection.

"Fu-!"

Agnes was jerked forward, her head ramming into the dashboard. A lightheadedness fell upon her, her vision blurring. The van had stopped, that much she knew. A dark, large figure stood beside Riddler's door and pulled him out. He was yelling, she heard some hitting noise, and no more sound.

"H…help…" she groaned, trying her best to stand.

Her door opened.

She was grabbed from the collar, and suddenly had the thought that calling for help was a bad idea.

"Who are you?" the figure growled.

"A-Agnes," she squeaked, "Agnes Bouprie…I-I'm not one of them, I swear! I was kidnapped and- and Scarecrow held me hostage and he was caught and Riddler took me I- I promise I'm not one of them!" she stuttered, almost incoherently at some parts.

"Are you the owner of Bouprie Cosmetics and Fashion?" it sounded more like a statement he wanted her to verify.

"Yes- please, I-I don't want to get taken again, I'll give you all the money you want, just let me go!"

"I'm going to take you to the hospital and alert the Gotham City Police of your case."

"W…what?"

He didn't respond, but almost gently led her to a long, black vehicle. He guided her into the passenger seat, and took his own.

"You wish your identity to remain a secret to the public."

"Y…yeah…"

"It's been taken care of by your assistant."

"Oh…"

"You're out of their custody."

"I know. And I'm…so happy…" she whispered, voice cracking.

She was horrified. Why did she doubt herself?


	17. Chapter 17

She had passed out on the way to the hospital, and woke up in a gurney. At first she was scared, everything was sterile looking, like in Crane's basement. When she realized that was not the case, a wave of relief flooded her.

She was safe.

"Ms. Locke?" a nurse asked, peering behind the curtain.

"…What?"

"Ms. Locke, your test results have come back. You seem pretty healthy, we haven't found traces of the Scarecrow's fear toxin inside of you. You can leave," the nurse smiled.

"I…" Agnes was confused at the wrong name, but she soon remembered Batman's words; 'It's been taken care of by your assistant.'

"Anyways…I came here to check up on you, see if you're awake. Also, you have a visitor," she said, pulling back the curtain to reveal the woman who she had once loathed and feared. Once.

"Margaret, what happened…when I was gone?"

"Everything has been running smoothly, nobody has noticed you were gone, Ms. Locke," she winked, taking a seat next to her bed.

"Really?"

"Really. I was able to create a competition for our customers for them to come up with designs, and the best would be picked for manufacturing. The best part is, all they knew was that we were letting them in on a bit of the action. Profits went to us, and we're staying afloat. It'll help that you've come back. Our cosmetics industry is thriving, especially. A royal woman somewhere in northern India bought hundreds of thousands of dollars in makeup for her Bollywood production."

Agnes was shocked. All of this had to be a dream, it was too perfect. She was free. Her company was still functioning perfectly.

"Am I dreaming?"

"No, ma'am. You're safe now. Come, Ms. Locke, let's get you back to your industry. Where you belong."

Agnes nodded slowly, pushing herself out of the gurney. She was still in a hospital gown, but she didn't care. She didn't want to touch the clothes she had during that horrid period of time.

"Can we get some fast food? I'm starving." Agnes said, finally resorting to a more giddy side.

"Fast food?"

"Yeah, you know, french fries, cheeseburgers, chicken nuggets?"

"Ms. Locke…surely you don't want to eat that greasy lard they call food?"

"Margaret, I've been locked in a bedroom with nothing to eat but near-stale, cold Mexican and Chinese food. I want some hot, calorie packed food."

"If you say so…aren't you going to put your clothes on?"

"No, I'm not wearing those. I'd rather burn them than wear them again. It's only a reminder of yesterday."

"I see. This way, Ms." Margaret murmured, guiding her to her vehicle. It was much better than the vans she had grown used to.

The drive to a fast food restaurant was ethereal; absolutely wonderful. She stuck her head out the window, blasted all the music, and waved at passing helicopters. The feeling of freedom seemed new to her, but that made it so much more amazing.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes! C'mon, let's go inside."

"Ms. Bouprie, you're in a hospital gown!"

"I don't care," Agnes said, slamming the car door shut behind her.

They went inside and ordered, Margaret sticking to a salad and bottle of water, and Agnes ordering a supersized cheeseburger, large fries, a large slice of cake, and an extra large coffee drink. People stared. Soon, they weren't staring at her, but the television. Margaret and Agnes directed their gaze to see what was on the news.

"The woman who had been found hostage from the Riddler and Scarecrow has been released from the hospital this morning, with no complications. Further investigations have revealed that the Scarecrow did not use his fear toxin on Ms. Locke, and there are more reports on that, but they have been made classified by the GCPD. We have not found images of Ms. Locke, but she has been reported to be African America, Caucasian mix, hazel eye color, shoulder length brown hair, 5' 10" tall, and approximately 130 lbs. Be on the lookout, and if you see her, be sure to tell her congratulations." she anchorwoman smiled, The camera panned out of the stage and into the audience, signaling the end of the show.

The people of the restaurant turned to Agnes.

"Let's go." Margaret said, bagging the food and guiding Agnes back to the vehicle. The people still watched, it was rather disconcerting.

"Gimme that." Agnes said, taking the bag of her food from Margaret.

The drive back to her empire was a bit disappointing.

She was going back to the same thing she had done before being taken. Stuck in her office, doing nothing but designing clothes for the greedy public. She wouldn't leave her office. She'd watch everything form her perch. She didn't have Beatrice to keep her company, anymore. Only Margaret, and she got old quickly.

"Margaret, let's go to Arkham."

"What?"

"You heard me, we need to go to Arkham. I want to visit somebody."

"Not the Scarecrow!"

"No! My old assistant- she was a victim of Scarecrow...before he became Scarecrow..." Agnes murmured in drepression.

"I highly advise you going to an insane asylum, especially when you're in nothing but a hospital gown and underwear!"

"Ms. Forcade. We're going to Arkham. You can wait in the car if you wish, but I'm going. Drive." she hissed, loving the control she had again.

Minutes went by. They felt longer.

Arkham was big. It looked to be the size of the entire Gotham ghettos. It was dark, Gothic. How could anybody mentally heal in a place like this?

Security was tight, but they obviously saw no threat in the two ladies. Parking was surprisingly easy, and inner security was light. She got past with only a few stares due to her gown. Margaret ws obviously disgusted with her surroundings.

A doctor approached them

"Hi; I'm Dr. Young. From the case file, you must be Mrs. Locke?" a petite Asian woman stated in question form. She reached out her hand for Agnes to shake.

"...Yes? How do you know my name?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Jonathan Crane's doctor. I manage some of the other rogues cases. May I help you? It's quite a surprise to see you here."

"I...I wanted to visit someone. Not Crane."

"Of course. If you give me the patient's name, I can lead you to them."

"Beatrice Neimal," Agnes murmured, following Dr. Young behind a nurses' station. She typed things. Clicked things.

"Follow me." she smiled, once again leading Agnes, who in turn led a begrudging Margaret.

"Beatrice was a victim of Crane's fear toxin."

"I know. I was there."

"How do you know Ms. Neimal?"

"She was my best friend."

"I see. Would you mind me asking you a few questions about your time with Crane?"

"Y...No."

"Why didn't he gas you? I'm sorry, I know people had to have asked you that so many times now. It could be vital to his case."

"I'd rather not talk about it in a hallway. Or elevator."

"Understandable. In my office, then? After you've seen Beatrice?"

"See her. Why can't I visit her, is there something behind you choosing 'see'?"

"I...Well, this is her cell..."

She could see inside. There was a small cot on the left side, against the wall. The walls were padded, but very thinly so. There was a small wall, in the back, it seemed to hid a toilet and sink. Nothing else. How could someone rehabilitate in those conditions? And where was Beatrice?

"Where is she?"

Dr. Young tapped a finger on the glass. Reacting to the sound, a small ball in the corner moved. A small monster. A hospital jumpsuit with a jungle of long, black, tangled hair. Memories of her and Beatrice having fun. Being friends. Being sisters. It was all in this mess on the ground. It was all in ruins. The best times of her life were gone. She looked on in horror at the figure, Beatrice. She looked like one of Scarecrow's victims now. She was one of Scarecrow's victims. One of many. She had meant the world to Agnes, and she was now just one mess out of many. She had no life anymore.

Agnes took a step back. And another. Unconcsious steps, that turned into running away. She ran down the hall and into the stairwell, the shrieks of other patients echoing throughout.

"Mrs. Locke!" Dr. Young called, chasing her down the stairwell. She caught up when Agnes collapsed, holding her face in her hands.

"She was my best friend!" Agnes wailed.

"I know, I know it's hard. She's getting the best treatment possible, I can assure you."

"B...But she'll never get better..."

"..."

"I think he did it to get to me."

"Excuse me?"

"All of it. I should have never aske dhim to evaluate her, it was a mistake. Everything was. Beatrice was stressed, overworked, hallucinations. I asked Crane to give her an evaluation when he was still a doctor, a-and he did. When I was in my office, I heard her screaming and I ran in, and she was...had been sedated and Crane was holding her, and I should've known! And I paid him...and I asked him to come by frequently to update me on her recovery, when he was worsening her!" she sobbed, "a-and then one day he didn't come. That night- that night was Fear Night, and he came, and killed two of my eplo- coworkers, and then he knocked me out, a-and I woke up, and I was in his bed, and he was next to me, but my clothes were on, and I don't know! He choked me, slapped me, gave me painkillers and tried to comfort me but I didn't believe him, I wouldn't do it, I wouldn't trust him, and I never understood! I never understood..." she trailed off, trying to stop her tears.

"Mrs. Locke, I know how hard this must be for you, but you have no idea how important this could be to his case. I have to ask you another question, but after that, you don't have to say anything else."

"...What...?"

"Did Jonathan Crane rape you?" she mouthed. Agnes shook her head.

"Almost." she whispered back. Dr. Young nodded.

"I'll escort you back to the lobby. Where is your friend?"

"M-Margaret!"

"I'm here, I'm here." she responded, stepping down the stairs.

"I want to go home..."


	18. Chapter 18

Agnes tied the sash of her coat together, inspected her appearance in the mirror. She was beautiful. She acknowledged that fact every day. She was model material; clean skin, gorgeous eyes, shiny hair, nice figure...shoulders back, chin up, and posture perfect.

Perfection.

She shook her head, never breaking eye contact with her reflection. She was horrified by it. She was scared. She didn't want to do this, but at the same time she did. Outside of this tiny temporary room was a crowd of hundreds, thousands of Gothamites. They had all come to see a big announcement by the representative of Bouprie Cosmetics and Fashion. The unveiling of the founder.

Margaret had opposed the idea; she hated it, in fact. She believed it would ruin the company. Agnes told her if she didn't like it, she could quit. This was a major, life altering decision. She had to go through some calculations with her financing and public relations department, and once she was given the okay, she had Margaret set up the event.

So many people were going to find out. People all over the world. The secret would be out. Everyone would know she was Agnes Bouprie, victim of the Scarecrow and founder of Bouprie Cosmetics and Fashion.

"Ms. Bouprie…" Margaret had suddenly appeared, staring at her reflection from the doorway. "We're about to start."

"Mhmm."

"…It's not too late. I can say you're sick, you've fainted. You don't have to do this. This company will be destroyed if you do this, Ms. Bouprie- please! Don't do it!"

"Shut up, Margaret. Just shut up. This was carefully calculated, nothing is going to be _destroyed_."

"How do you know?! It was a guess, they guessed! They don't know!"

"Neither do you. This is my decision and my decision alone. Like I said before, if you don't like it, then quit. Stop trying to drag this company down," Agnes hissed.

"I…"

"C'mon, Forcade. Your speech is ready, they're waiting on you," a man with headphones and speaker said.

Margaret stared at Agnes, eyes watering. She put her hand up to her mouth and ran out of the room to the curtain area of the stage. This event was held at a park, and this stage was set up just for this occasion.

Agnes took one last look back at the mirror. Perfection at its worst. Faded. Ruined. Damaged.

Still perfect.

She had her regrets.

She saw Margaret walk on stage, flashes of light hitting her. So many photos.

"Welcome all! My name is Margaret Forcade, I am Ms. Bouprie's assistant, and for the past couple of years I've been representing her throughout media. Today is…a very special day. As all of you already know. You'll finally get to see the woman who has provided a new sense of style to the world. A brilliant lady, philanthropist, dignified, grace in human form. I've been honored to work with her. It's…so strange that this is happening. I guess I won't have to make as many errands on her behalf anymore," she chuckled. As did the audience.

"I shouldn't keep you waiting, you've been waiting long enough! Ladies and gentlemen, Ms. Agnes Bouprie, the founder of Bouprie Cosmetics & Fashion!"

She stepped down from the podium and walked off stage where Agnes was. She grabbed her shoulders and with a shake, "Don't do this, please!"

"Let go of me, damnit!" she slapped her and shoved her out of the way.

And walked on stage.

As soon as she made that step from behind the curtain, the audience roared with whistles, applause, and various other noises of excitement. She paused, took a breath, and continued her way to the podium.

She was there.

The microphone was in front of her, and this inanimate object, for split moment, felt like the bane of her existence.

"Thank you, thank you."

More noises as they heard her voice for the first time. They were crazy for her. They liked her. She **was** perfect. She had to make sure of it, that was the key to a great first impression. They liked what they saw, which was a very, very good thing.

"This company…with all my efforts and my assistants'…has been running for more than a decade. That's a short span of time for a business, but look how much we've grown in that time. We're an empire. And I couldn't have done it without my customers. I can see you're wearing one of our dresses," Agnes smiled, pointing to a woman with a notepad. The woman smiled and nodded. "and I don't know what else to say. Thank you for keeping this company going, and…through our hardships.

"A few months ago catastrophe struck Gotham. Fear overran the city, and many, many people died. This night was called Fear Night. It was planned and executed by the Scarecrow.

"That night, the Scarecrow infiltrated the building, and in the process had more than 100 of my people killed. He had…breached the upper floors, and that night I was kidnapped from the security of my office. For about two months I was locked in a cell and tested on."

The audience was captivated by her story. She was lying. She had to; the world couldn't know that he had feelings other than a hunger for fear. She promised herself to never let anyone else know. Simple reasons, she told herself. The masses knew him to be a monster who would stop at nothing to achieve everyone's fear, to rule the world with fear.

Fear.

Fear.

Give this monster emotions other than that, and he isn't so two dimensional anymore. He's not a character, a bad side. He's a human, like them. People must keep thinking of him as a bad thing, there can't be a grey in the matter. No buts.

"And in those months I was made to believe that my company had crumbled…and now look- see it stand tall, making its own place in Gotham's skyline!" she grinned, gesturing to the enormous building.

Applause and cheers.

"I…I don't know what I would've done without my customers…my employees…and th-the Batman…who sav-"

"NO!" a woman screamed.

Agnes turned towards the noise in fright. Her eyes landed on Margaret, wielding a rifle. A crazed look in her eye.

Everything seemed to slow down for Agnes. Pictures were still being taken. People were screaming. Somebody said, 'Get down, get down!'

Agnes did not get down. It wouldn't have mattered; the gun was aimed at her. She pushed herself off the ground to run, but the bullets were fired. She felt something hit her. She didn't know what, but she assumed it was a bullet. Her right calf. She continued running, somehow managing to block the feeling out. She didn't know how long that would last; she kept running, but those damn heels…

She tripped. Fell on her face. She felt blood on her leg.

Fog graced the air. She had a feeling it would probably kill her, she felt delusional. It was white. For the first time, and she had hoped it would be the last, she wished it was Crane. He would save her. He had to. Margaret was getting closer.

"You insufferable woman! I did EVERYTHING for this company and you do this! Do you have any idea!?"

She sounded like a witch.

"No, Margaret…you're a murderer…"

"I did it all for the- ALL FOR THE COMPANY! Who do you think kept this place running while you were gone? Your customers? No, no, NO! ME! And then you just burn it to the ground…the stupidest decision of your life, and its cost you your life!" Margaret screeched, kicking Agnes's face.

"J-Jonathan…" she called, chocking on the vile taste of blood.

People were screaming- it had to be him.

"I'm bleeding."

"I'm going to kill you."

The fog was started to cover them. Agnes pulled her jacket around her nose and mouth.

"Jonathan!" she cried out, never breaking eye contact with Margaret and her gun.

How could he have left her to die…

Agnes was a really lucky woman. Luckier than she could imagine. She caught a glimpse of that luck when a scared-out-of-his-wits journalist ran at Margaret head on, knocking her to the ground. Agnes crawled to the gun and kept it trained on the now knocked out woman. She hoped nobody knew she didn't know how to shoot a gun.

But Jonathan had left her there…

Jonathan was in Arkham, wasn't he?

Batman put him there. He freed her.

"Come on, I'm getting you out of here." He said, lifting her into his arms.

"WHO ARE YOU?"

The man continued walking out of the park. She saw burlap. It may've been a henchman, but all that mattered was that Jonathan hadn't abandoned her. She hoped this man was Jonathan.

"J-Jonathan?"

"No, the boss is back at the vehicle. You're one lucky dame, he escaped just fo' you. Good thing, too, apparently. You know how to shoot a gun?"

"N-No."

"Uh…okay…don't aim that at my face, then. Or yours."

She felt the blood.

"I'm bleeding."

"No shit. We need to get you outta here, the Bat could show up at any minute."

"Run, then!"

He did.

"I'm surprised" *huff* "you're not" *huff* "kickin'' and screamin'"

"So am I. Is that the vehicle? Is that him?"

"Looks like it. Drop the gun, it's a heavy load."

She dropped it and stared at the figure standing on top of the vehicle, surveying the mass hysteria.

He didn't abandon her. He was here, like he said. He didn't say it, though. But he was here.

She hated herself for being so relieved.


End file.
